Zodiac Signal
by trimurti
Summary: No two people with the same sign are alike, but maybe they're more similar than they first appear to be.
1. Aries

...Arians are spontaneous people. They never ponder, they act. The Arian takes definite steps, achieves definite results, is of help and benefit to those who need it, and attacks before waiting to be attacked.'  
  
Zodiac Signal  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square Enix does.

**I. The Ram, Aries**  
  
I've got the best life. Yeah yeah, I definitely do. I'm always fed. I like eating. So, that's a good thing, yep yep. There's nothing better than being fed.  
  
I earn my food. My eggmate depends on me, yep yep. His companions aren't nearly as useful as I am, not at all! They quibble among themselves, useless, useless, so like a human. But my eggmate isn't that way at all, nope nope! He's a good human, and he feeds me and he needs me. Eggmates can always depend on each other, and we depend on each other because we're useful.  
  
Wiegraf! Where are you?  
  
I don't like her, nope nope. She's my eggmate's eggmate--but not my eggmate, not at all! She kicked me once with the long legs that a human's got, so I bit her. My eggmate wasn't too happy about that, but he's not too good at controlling his humans. He gets them, but then they start leaving.  
  
You can't depend on humans, nope nope.  
  
Here, Miluda. I'm feeding Boco.  
  
That's my name. I like that name...think another human's called me that before. Doesn't matter. To my kind, only the here and now matters. Yeah yeah, because that's the time we're living in. And I'm eating, so it's really the most important time.  
  
My eggmate's eggmate appears. I can smell her. She smells like a human. She stinks. We're continuously being attacked by the Hokuten, and the most important thing for you is that damn chocobo? I know she's talking about me, saying mean things. I'm a monster, course I understand. My eggmate places a hand on my upper back, so I don't do anything. Nope, nope. Not worth it.  
  
He didn't like it when I bit her that last time.  
  
Boco is important to me, my eggmate says. I'm used to his voice. He talks a lot. I understand what he says, but not why. Dunno if that's important, though. He feeds me, and that's all that matters, yep yep. Miluda, is your troop ready to go to the fort?  
  
Yes, brother, we're ready. But why? Brother'. That means eggmate, I think. But my word's better.  
  
We've caused a lot of damage to the nobles, but right now they're too alert. It's best to split up and separate their resources. Let them think we're too afraid before striking again.  
  
See, see, my eggmate's smart. I attack, always attack.  
  
My eggmate's eggmate shakes out her...hair. Yeah, yeah, hair. It's because of Gustav that we've become so desperate. We're running around like rats in a sinking ship. That's how the nobles see us, Wiegraf. Do you honestly think that this plan helps our image?  
  
...Yeah, yeah, she may have a point there. It's always good to attack first.  
  
My eggmate says nothing, cept for giving me another handful of food. He's a good eggmate, yep yep. We do what we have to do, he says finally, sounding sad, that's all we've ever done.  
  
The humans stay silent afterwards, and the only noise I can hear is my beak picking up food and the continuous creaking of that big wooden circle. Whenever the humans get quiet, that's how I know we'll be fighting soon.  
  
Yeah yeah, we're always fighting, but that's how it goes.  
  
----------  
  
I don't like most humans. We monsters fight because that's life. We don't seek battle, nope nope. Humans do. Scampering about with their lower legs covered in the skins of monsters, swinging blades shining with red, always, always. All they know how to do is fight. That's why humans are scary to us.  
  
Who knows why they fight?  
  
Dunno why my eggmate fights, not really. Equality', he says. What's that? A food? There's plenty of food around, but he doesn't eat any of it. I don't understand.  
  
It's too bad he's a human, yep yep.  
  
There are humans crawling up to this place. Never seen them before. They smell like that red stuff...blood. Hate it. Smells like shiny weapons. My eggmate is here, holding his sword. Angry, angry. I've never seen him so angry.  
  
We rush into the battle. I'm ahead, always ahead. Keep fighting, keep fighting! We'll win, yeah yeah, we always do!  
  
My eggmate's human fighters scream and fall around me. Those other humans, these intruders, don't look at me. They're looking higher up, at my eggmate. No matter how many times I sink my beak into their bodies, they keep attacking him, especially the sky-colored one.  
  
Even while I attack, my eggmate starts talking. When he talks, humans listen. Lies!! A Beoulve would never do such a thing! The sky-colored human yells. I see my eggmate gesturing to me, so I approach his side. He sits on me and I can feel the warmth of his blood seeping into my feathers.  
  
You should see for yourself! Goodbye, Beoulve! I understand what that means. We're leaving. I don't like to admit it, but my eggmate is in bad condition.  
  
My eggmate is important to me, yep yep, so we leave.  
  
----------  
  
As the sky darkens, I stop nearby a river and let him get off me before I start curing him. The wounds are pretty bad, yeah yeah, but I can make them better. I should've protected him better, but it's okay. Next time, next time. As long as we're alive, there's always a next time, yep yep. But as long as we're okay now, that's all that matters.  
  
He looks sad as I cure him. His eggmate was killed, he said earlier. His sister'. I didn't like her, but my eggmate's sad so I guess she was important. I nudge him with my beak until he pats me on the head.  
  
I'm still here. It's okay. We're not alone.  
  
Thank you, Boco, he says lowly. You're a good chocobo. You'll survive anything easily.  
  
Course I will. If I can survive humans, I can survive anything, yep yep.  
  
His hand drops from my head, so I nudge at it. He moves away. I know you can survive without me now.  
  
...I don't understand. Course I _could_ survive without him, but he's my _eggmate_. Eggmates stay together. Even humans know that, right?  
  
Goodbye, Boco, he says quietly before walking away. I follow him until he stops and glances at me. No Boco, you can't follow me anymore.  
  
I ask, but humans can't understand a monster's speech. My eggmate's no different most of the time. But maybe this time he hears something other than wark'.  
  
He looks away. I've decided on what I should do next. I'm going to go to a place where I can become stronger. I can't take care of you anymore.  
  
But I was taking care of him too. That's what eggmates do. We protect each other! Why doesn't he understand that? He's a smart human, so why doesn't he know?  
  
I protect him. He protects me. Isn't that right?  
  
I'm sorry, Boco, and he walks away. I want to follow him, keep following him, but my eggmate's stubborn.  
  
He'd just keep walking away.  
  
---------  
  
For many, many moons, I've been alone. It's not so bad, nope nope. I walk and walk and walk, meeting monsters of my kind. I never stay with them for too long.  
  
They're my kind, yeah yeah, but not my eggmate.  
  
They would always say that I was tainted when I would leave. That I'm spoiled by the humans. No no, not at all! My eggmate may have been a human, so what? I'm still a monster, yep yep, and while I may have walked by a human's side that didn't make him better than me!  
  
An eggmate is something beyond monster' and human'. That's what I think, and I know I'm right!  
  
I'm going through the woods now. Doesn't feel right. Feels like eyes and hunger.  
  
Smells like goblins.  
  
They come out from behind the trees, many of them, eyes gleaming yellow. One of them points at me, cackling in its ugly goblin-tongue. Look, look! Yellow chocobo tasty!! Cackling louder, they approach.  
  
I squawk back. Learned that word from my eggmate; he used to say it a lot to everyone but me. I know what it means.  
  
I'm better than stupid goblins!  
  
Humans arrive, a whole pack of them. Don't really know, but...one of them looks familiar. Why, why?  
  
You have humans--!! One goblin says. Stupid goblin. I listen to the humans.  
  
A chocobo in this forest?  
  
Must be pretty stupid to wander into the goblin's forest! Same like you, right?  
  
Delita said wild chocobos are stronger than tame ones. I wonder if this one's strong in a fight?  
  
You want to help him, Ramza? There's no money in that!  
  
It may help us save the princess...  
  
The humans begin fighting the goblins. I run to the corner of the area, watching the fight. Don't like this at all. Who are those humans? Are they going to attack me next? If the humans come after me they'll regret it, yep yep!  
  
Soon, all the goblins are dead. The humans are looking at me. I don't like that. The one who hurt my eggmate approaches me, holding out...food? He has food? I cry out something meaningless because no human's given me food since my eggmate, and he simply smiles and holds out his hand while I eat.  
  
You seem alright, he comments. Yeah yeah, I'm alive. Don't know why he's feeding me and protecting me, acting like my eggmate.  
  
Hm. A human wouldn't act like an eggmate unless he wanted to _be_ an eggmate. Yeah yeah, that's true. Then, I'll let him be my new eggmate! I'll protect him, yep yep!  
  
But...after I sleep.

-_Aries_ fades into _Taurus_...-

This series was inspired by TobyKikami's FFT story _Gemini_. I've always had a fondness for astrology, and it was a little surprising to me that, despite the reliance on the zodiac signs in both the story line and gameplay, no one else seemed to care about that aspect (that I've seen, anyway). Many of the characters have characteristics from their astrological sign, and it was interesting to see how a sign would relate to a character.  
  
All the beginning quotes in this series come from an astrology site that was linked in the Persona 2: Eternal Punishment site _Crime and Punishment_; I'll link the former to my bio so you can yell at them if you don't like what they say. In-game quotes come from the Game Script FAQ at GameFAQs and are grammatically altered by me.  
  
Aries is a sign that is understandable to give to a monster. I've always seen chocobos as excitable creatures, hence Boco's speech patterns, and Arians are generally held to be take-charge people. Aries is the cardinal fire sign of the zodiac, sort of a fiery, energetic leader. They're said to be very competitive, believing themselves to be number one, risktakers who are willing to defend others. Hm...intimidating. The story says it all, I suppose.  
  
Other Arians: Well, none. Just Boco. One of Agrias' tagalong knights (Lavian) happens to be an Aries, but I'm considering her to be a generic. Boco isn't because of the FFV connection.


	2. Taurus

Honesty, integrity and dependability are notable Taurean characteristics. The calm, pleasant and well intentioned Taurus exterior belies the volcanic temper that can erupt when sufficiently aroused.'  
  
Zodiac Signal  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**II. The Bull, Taurus**  
  
When she has finally fallen into the world of dreams, the first things she usually sees are colors.  
  
First, there is the color of white, the purest of all the colors man knows of. The white covers her body, cloaks it from appraisal by the human eye. That is what it is meant to do because she is pure, and pure things must never be gawked over, pure things must never be the subject to coarse thoughts, pure things must be shut away and never be seen by others.  
  
Their impurity would wash over her and make her theirs.  
  
Second, there is the color of gold. Gold is a royal color, a rich color, a color of possessing and possessing and never having enough. Gold is the color of the designs at the bottom of her white dress, because even if God does not believe that gold is holy humans surely do. Her hair is gold as well, light and thin, and even as the dream is forming there are hands twisting this spun gold. They are coarse and calloused, these hands, and that is the only way she knows that they are not her own.  
  
Third, there is red. Red of passion, of fire, of lust, but she is none of these things. She is too plain, too dull, too steady for such volatile things. She is so much more dependable than they, she always has been. If she was not, she would not be who she is.  
  
The red is her cape, but she knows not why she bears such a color on her shoulders.  
  
The colors are made darker by the sunless room. It is a room, no doubt--there is a bed and a desk even--but it is a cold one. Four walls of stone, rough and bumpy and ancient. They have been here much longer than she, and they will be here far after she is gone. There is a door, the dark wood offsetting the drab gray walls, and it is unlocked. There is something outside these four walls, the door proves that. However, if she were to leave unnecessarily, there would be eyes on her every movement until she has returned to the room.  
  
For that reason alone, the door is nothing more than a pretty illusion.  
  
There is nothing else here, nothing but the colors and the walls and the secret desire to leave it all behind. The hands fade into the atmosphere after her hair is done. Perhaps they were always invisible in the first place.  
  
Every time Ovelia wakes from the dream, she feels a momentary disappointment. She dislikes the dream almost as much as she dislikes living her life in Orbonne Monastery.  
  
But having never experienced anything else, this is the only thing she can dream of.  
  
----------  
  
It's because you're a princess.  
  
Ovelia is used to this answer. The questions that preclude it are not important--they never were, really--but the answer is everything. The answer is the reason why she has to live long, lonely years of her young life in Orbonne, why she must never be unattended when she leaves her room--and often while she is inside it. Within the answer lies her identity, her fate, her self. It is the only answer.  
  
Yes, I know, the young girl murmurs regretfully, but sometimes I wonder why this is the fate I must face. She looks away after saying these words, for they are shameful things for royalty to reveal.  
  
A princess is supposed to be stronger than that.  
  
Her confidant is quiet. She is a recently knighted Holy Knight, chosen from so many others for the honor of protecting the crown princess of Ivalice. The sword is her forte, not comforting words, but out of the pity she holds for her charge she tries. Princess, the status of our birth may be fate, or just a simple accident of convenience, but what matters most is what we do with ourselves afterward.  
  
Ovelia has heard these words before. She will not fault her bodyguard for them. They are kind words, but she is not even allowed to do anything. Her suffering may be essential to Ivalice, but would it not be better if she were actually doing something to alleviate her country's pain? I suppose, Agrias, but I do wish I could see how Ivalice looks these days...  
  
...That wouldn't be a good idea, the female knight says carefully, shifting her weight from one foot to another, her guard mostly lowered though her hand never strays far from the hilt of her sword. Even though the war has ended, there are still many dangerous elements about. With all the protesting factions around, someone would get the idea to use you for their own ends.  
  
The young girl has heard these words too. Because she is the princess, she will be used by anyone with unscrupulous morals. That is why she is locked away. The princess' power must never be used.  
  
Not even by herself.  
  
...Of course, Ovelia says after a long moment of silence has passed, I should not have been so careless with my thoughts. It is a good thing to say, for Agrias merely nods in response. She would not have done so, had the response not been up to par.  
  
Sometimes, Ovelia cannot help but wonder when she had become so good at saying the right thing. It is not an apology, not really, because royalty should never have to apologize to their subjects. It is an acknowledgment of her mistake, and the end to the discussion. Etiquette does not teach this, especially not at a humble monastery. She cannot remember if she has ever attended court before, but the answer is closer to a no'.  
  
Perhaps it is something all princesses are born with.  
  
----------  
  
They are running now.  
  
Ovelia's body is unused to such vigorous exercise, and her lungs are straining from the immense pressure of rapid inhalations and exhalations. Her feet, bound in pretty and useless boots, hurt. Later, they will reveal blisters at an alarming rate. With each hurried step, she runs the risk of stepping on the hem of her elaborate gown and tripping, ruining both the purity of the dress as well as their escape. Her cape flutters behind her, and she does not know that the knights chasing after her are tracking them by the bright red material through the dark forest.  
  
In front of her is Agrias, who is much more suited to this level of exertion. With a rushed swing of her sword, she clears a path through the lower branches that hinders their escape. She is always looking back, aiding her princess whenever it is apparent that the girl needs her help.  
  
It is more apparent the farther they go.  
  
Finally, Ovelia has had enough. She stops, and her bodyguard spins around in surprise. What is the matter, Princess? We must hurry--  
  
the princess whispers hoarshly, trying to catch her breath without performing the indelicate movement of slouching over. This is a pointless exercise.  
  
What are you talking about? Agrias demands, a note of urgency making her tone harsh.  
  
We cannot escape them. They are the Church, after all.  
  
Princess, they mean to execute you!  
  
It is true that those were the words uttered by one knight or another, as eavesdropped by the lady knight. There is even a likely execution site in this region: Golgorand, where the venerated Saint Ajora was made a martyr.  
  
Ovelia does not wish to become a martyr, but...  
  
The princess looks directly into her bodyguard's--her friend's--eyes. That is what they say. But what could they do with a dead princess? She shakes her head once, keeping her gaze steady. No, they want me alive. They want to use me. But you need to escape.  
  
This command offends Agrias' highly refined sense of honor. I cannot! My duty is to protect you. If you stay, I will as well!  
  
With another shake of her head, something desperate emerges within Ovelia's light eyes. It is the duty of a princess to make the best decision for her people. The Church may mean to use me, but they have no use for you. I will not endanger my friends! Agrias, please leave!  
  
There is the sound of a multitude of footsteps quickly approaching.  
  
Agrias nods once, thin pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. Then, I will find reinforcements and come back to rescue you, Princess! Without another word, the knight turns and runs deeper into the forest.  
  
Thank you, Ovelia whispers, turning around just as the Lionel knights appear. Her face is blank, her eyes are dispassionate, and her feet are steady on the unrelenting earth. As they lead her away, she holds her head up with royal dignity.  
  
Ovelia does not wish to become a martyr, but, to protect a friend, it is the least she can do.  
  
------------  
  
_Aren't you eating? You can't go on without food._  
  
There is a man. His name is Delita Hyral. Despite the fact that his dark eyes smolder with some unrealized intent towards her, he treats Ovelia very kindly. Or, more kindly than she is used to in this world outside the monasteries she has lived in.  
  
_You and I are the same...miserable people forced to live false lives._  
  
Ovelia is not a princess. That is what Delita readily agrees with. She had always thought that her solitary life was for some good, even if she herself could not see it. But Ovelia is not a princess, Ovelia is not her identity, her fate, her self. Ovelia' is a falsehood.  
  
_Trust me, Ovelia! I'll make a country worthy of you! I'll make your life shine! Let me guide you!_  
  
She does not know what to think of these words. They are so comforting, so kind. Having been told that the life she had lived was never her own, the entire foundation of who she was torn down, these words offer her a coveted stability. All she has to do is trust Delita.  
  
Ovelia has spent a lifetime within convent walls. She understands that everyone wants to use her. Certainly Delita is the same way.  
  
_You don't trust me?_  
  
She does not know. What she does understand, though, is that if she does not, then she will completely lose her identity. If she tries her very hardest to trust Delita, she can remain Ovelia'.  
  
Her name is important to her, even if it is not her own.  
  
---------  
  
Once, Queen Ovelia knew a young man. He was a kind man, as knowledgeable about the use of a sword as he was about playing the reed flute. She never expected to see such raw kindness outside Orbonne. Despite that, even she has heard that he was named a heretic by the Church.  
  
One day, she has the opportunity to talk to Olan Durai. She mentions this young man, and Olan quickly reacts. He relates all that he knows from pages and pages of his father's notes after the older man's death'.  
  
Ramza Beoulve was Delita Hyral's best friend.  
  
The more Olan says, the clearer things become for the young queen. It is evident to her that Ramza had been trying to do the right thing all along. In doing so, he had crossed the Church. Instead of helping his friend, Delita used Ramza's disruption of the Church to circumvent their authority. In their confusion, King Delita emerged as a true and strong leader, one who could offer more to his subjects than the Church. He was able to sway the people's loyalty to him.  
  
And Ramza and his friends had died.  
  
Ovelia cannot comprehend this. To her, friends are valuable commodities in a time when no one can be trusted. She let herself become a living martyr for the sake of her friend Agrias. Delita used his best friend.  
  
The more she thinks about it, the angrier she becomes.  
  
She let herself be used by Delita because he offered her stability, kindness. Listening to his words, she felt that he was sincere. At night, she remembers every single comforting word he had ever given her. Her stomach rolls with disgust at how easily she let herself be taken in by this, like a stray hungrily snapping up bits of food. How starved she was for gentleness, how easily she gave away her trust, her love, her dignity.  
  
All to someone who would use and use without regret.  
  
Soon, all there is to the young queen is the slowly boiling rage as her mind keeps its focus on the past. She feels that, having been willingly blind to the events of the past, she is at fault for what has occurred. If she had only kept her dignity, her pride instead of giving them up for a name that was not even hers to begin with, this would not have occurred. By trusting in Delita, she has given up the lives of Ramza, of Agrias, of her Uncle Orlandu, of so many others.  
  
She hates herself, but she hates him even more.  
  
Ovelia understands how Delita prefers to use those closest to him with kindness. Today is her birthday, a beautiful May day. He will come to this courtyard soon, bearing a pretty little present for her.  
  
No more. She will not lower herself for a manipulator's gifts any more.  
  
She is huddled here, sitting on the strangely comforting ground. There is a sharpened knife clenched between her clammy hands, held against her stomach. Her cape is spread over her shoulders, a deep, malignant red of passion, of fire, of righteous fury.  
  
And then she hears Delita's footsteps.

-_Taurus_ fades into _Gemini_...-

Taurus is an interesting sign to me, and not just because I was born under it. Generally, a Taurean is very peaceful and content as long as there is emotional and material stability. Ovelia was always worried about being used, and Delita's presence offered her that emotional stability. If I'm going to be used, at least it's by someone who is kind to me,' she might've figured. But, as the game shows, she couldn't tolerate anyone else being used, fitting in with the Taurean ideal of considerable moral courage. Oh, and the bull-like explosion of anger. Taurus is the fixed earth sign of the zodiac, which is fitting for a princess that the country is depending on.  
  
Other Taureans: None. Though, from a personal standpoint, Ovelia's pretty much the pinnacle of the sign anyway.  
  
-For those wondering, I've recently put in commentary in the Aries story. Sorry about that.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Hey, TobyKikami. Yeah, it's because of you that I'm trying to put a new perspective on some of these characters. I'll blame you if it doesn't work out. :) I don't keep Boco after the first red chocobo hatches...and I usually poach that for a Barette. I don't understand what you mean when you say that it's ironic Boco's an Aries...are you one too?  
Ah, first _The Smiling Man_, then this...I'm getting used to writing from a monster's POV. I see chocobos as hyper little things, hence Boco's odd speech.  
The Wiegraf thing...I feel that Wiegraf is the type of person to make back-up plans. Seeing the Death Corps fall apart, he may have thought about joining with the Church, but it was his sister's death that sealed the deal. In the story, it was only about a day later that he left Boco.  
I certainly hope this story keeps your interest in this series up!  
  
Yo, Hawk of Death. You're an Aries, huh? Cool. As you can see from this story, Taureans like me only have one character representative too. That just makes us unique, though. I have two generics that are Arians (Aimee and Sade), but I couldn't use them for this series...oh well. Glad you liked the first story!  
  
Ello, rufe, I'm glad you liked the story. I prefer focusing on the secondary and tertiary characters as opposed to the old standbys like Ramza, Agrias and such. Everyone has a story, after all. I don't know know if the things I write are really special'...I just feel it out and write from the heart. That's all you need, right?  
  
Yo, The Burning Misery! Do you know a lot about the zodiac? I've always been fond of esoteric practices like astrology and tarot cards.  
Chocobos are cute things. I pulled the, er, dialect from one of the monster dismissal quotes...I think. Whatever it was, it stuck into my mind. As for the bits of opinion...that's about par for my first-person POV stories...though, I suppose it shows more in a short story than in something like WHW.  
Extra minor characters own all. Expect to see a lot of them in this series.


	3. Gemini

...It is important to remember that the symbol for this sign is the twins, and that not all twins are alike. There are broad distinctions within the Gemini character...Inseparable as two sides of the coin, those born in this sign can be dazzling and irresistable or inconstant and irrational.'  
  
Zodiac Signal  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**III. The Twins, Gemini**  
  
It was early afternoon when Mesdoram Elmdor, the ruler of Limberry and a capable Arc Knight, descended into the first underground level of Murond's bookrooms. The heavy mahogany door closed behind him with a muffled noise as the musty odor of the underground vault invaded his sensitive nose. He nearly opened the door again, if only to air out the room, but the sudden realization that he could no more completely remove the unpleasant smell than he could defy God's will caused him to turn away and stride into the heart of the room. His dark cloak billowed behind him and he drew it over his tall frame in a quick, graceful movement. Long, white-blond hair drifted behind him like a streak of moonlight in the dark room. Between that and the sleek pieces of foreign armor he often wore, it was only natural that there would be such extremes between the names he was known by.  
  
The Silver Noble, a distinguished, elegant man who defined the heart of nobility.  
  
The Silver Ogre, a merciless warrior with a blade dripping with the blood of his enemies.  
  
The names were fine with him, they had always been. He didn't need to be understood for who he truly was by either his friends or enemies. Only his people, the poor yet hardy laborers of Limberry, could ever truly understand. The Fifty Year War had forced them to bear the ultimate insult of invasion and occupation by the Ordalians, and only by intuitively knowing when to be kind and when to be cruel could the survivors cling to their homeland. With the war having ended a mere few months before, they would all have to continue these ways as they began the arduous process of rebuilding Limberry. It was his most fervent belief that God could understand him as well, that the Lord could forgive him for following the devil's route in order to try to bring his people some sort of salvation.  
  
Those of the Glabados faith seemed to understand this. They had given him a holy stone and told him that he had the potential to become one of God's Zodiac Braves.  
  
Absently, he touched the stone through the cloak pocket which it now rested in, thinking back on Vormav Tingel's words as he meandered about the room, cerulean-blue eyes scanning the spines of each tome for something suitable to read. That he was allowed to wander Murond without some wide-eyed Shrine Knight as his guide spoke volumes about the connection he had with the Church. Due to his support, he was highly regarded by the Church and unofficially qualified to become a Pagan Examiner should he ever choose to leave the life of a noble.  
  
Not now, not yet. He owed it to his people to help them, and a noble's position was better than an examiner's in that regard. Soon, perhaps; he was already in the second half of his thirties and was starting to feel it in his bones, his soul.  
  
It was hard to hold both God's and the devil's hands without feeling as if he was being torn apart.  
  
There was a book that caught his eye, a dissertation on the Zodiac Brave legend. With sable-gloved fingers he pulled the tome out of its place and opened it, glancing at the preface.

_A warrior takes sword in hand,  
clasping a gem to his heart.  
  
Engraving vanishing memories  
into the sword,  
  
He laces finely honed skills  
into the stone.  
  
Spoken from the sword,  
handed down from the stone...  
  
Now the story can be told..._

It seemed to read like a fairy tale, and the Marquis was thirty years too old for one. However, it couldn't be said that he lacked a sense of humor--although the one he did possess was rather subdued--and so he took the book with him and walked towards the tables at the end of the room. Golden light streamed from magic flames encapsulated within the glass orbs lined along the walls of the room, the light enough that he wasn't forced to go outside to read. While he liked Murond as he liked all things connected with the Glabados faith, the island was always cold in the fall.  
  
The sound of a creaking chair alerted him to the fact that he was not the only person indulging in the knowledge--and the fairy tales--that the bookroom had to offer. Never one to announce his presence boldly, he calmly made his way to the tables and spared a glance at the other occupant in the room. It was another man, a boy really, and there was a stack of books in front of him, showing that this boy had been here for a fair amount of time.  
  
Good afternoon, sir, the boy said in a sort of blanket respectfulness, as if he didn't know who the Marquis was. Mesdoram could understand the feeling; despite the boy's Shrine Knight armor, swathed in a surcoat of green, he could not place who this knight was.  
  
Good afternoon, Sir Knight, the Silver Noble responded in kind before sitting down at another table. He opened the book he had taken and began to read it, consciously aware of the eyes of the young man sitting at his back.  
  
There was a shifting noise, and then, Excuse me, sir, but may I ask who you are? I'm sorry, but you look familiar.  
  
Mesdoram closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning his body, glancing at the boy out of the corner of his eye. Mesdoram Elmdor of Limberry, he stated simply, watching the boy frown momentarily at this news before his eyes abruptly widened.  
  
Oh, you're Marquis Elmdor! Forgive me, I had forgotten that my father had said you were here, the boy lowered his head in rushed acknowledgment, his light brown bangs brushing over his forehead at the movement. A half-smile appeared on the elder man's face as he wondered if he had ever been so youthful.  
  
'Your father', the Marquis repeated, and the boy looked up in curiosity, who is your father?  
  
With a small, almost undetectable fidget, the Shrine Knight replied, My father is Vormav Tingel, my lord. My name is Izlude.  
  
Digesting this information, Mesdoram looked away from the boy. The only person you should ever refer to as my lord' is God, young Tingel.That is true, Izlude hurriedly replied. Forgive me, I don't know how to properly speak with the nobility, so I--'Marquis Elmdor' is fine, or any variant you so choose, the half-smile quirked up upon the noble's delicate face, reflecting in his eyes, after all, we are of the same band now.  
  
Izlude's dark eyes were dull for a moment before he inexplicably smiled widely. I see! You've been marked as one of the Zodiac Braves as well! Which one are you, if I may ask?  
  
Mesdoram's smile was tempered by the question, but it still remained. The Gemini seemed most appropriate, the corners of his mouth lifted in pleasure at his private joke, but the boy didn't seem to notice. And yourself?  
  
Something in Izlude's countenance seemed more fitting of a man for the barest second, before being washed away by his youthful exuberance. The Pisces, he answered, shrugging slightly. Any confidence he had assumed suddenly seemed to melt off of his gold-plated shoulders. I only hope I can live up to the legend itself...To think in such a way almost certainly allows for failure to overcome you.  
  
The boy was startled by these words, only managing a confused, E-excuse me?Do you seek to become like your predecessors, or do you wish to become your own man? Mesdoram blandly glanced at Izlude, his mouth turned down in displeasure. He couldn't understand the Shrine Knight's words. They reeked of dependence, weakness.  
  
Marquis Elmdor could've never afforded to hold such an attitude. His people deserved more than that.  
  
...Of course I want to become my own man, but I think that the legends are there to be examples on how we can improve ourselves, Izlude argued passionately, his bare and calloused hands palms-down on the table as if he might raise himself and his voice soon, it's just like the priests who swear to emulate the holy Saint Ajora, or God Himself.  
  
Cold blue eyes narrowed at this example. I pity those who believe they could ever emulate the Lord. Unless they cast off their humanity, their endeavors are fruitless.  
  
Now the young knight did stand, leaning forward with irritation dwelling in his eyes. Forgive me, but I don't believe that's true at all! he announced, taking a breath before continuing, With the proper example, humans can aspire to become one with God.  
  
Mesdoram leaned back, one thin eyebrow arched in beautiful disdain. How do you explain the war, then?Because of the nobl... a tirade was quickly quelled as Izlude froze, realizing just what he was about to say, no...I don't mean to imply you specifically, but because of the system of aristocracy and those who seem to believe that they are above God's grace.  
  
It was slow, but it built up steadily until the refined noble began to chuckle. That is something I would not disagree with, he smiled, the act much like the clouds clearing after the rain. It is purely because of self-interest that humans act.  
  
Still hunched over the table, the Shrine Knight said nothing at first. Finally, he shook his head. I don't think I agree with that, he stated slowly, his eyes downcast, we are capable of sacrifice. Not everything is about ourselves.Come now, are you truly this naive? The Silver Ogre's eyes glittered as he smiled thinly. A person always lives to accomplish something for their own benefit. Can you truly say that you are any different?  
  
His face flushed at being called naive, Izlude removed his hands from the table. He stood there, a golden knight dressed with the surcoat of a novice, and yet something essential had changed. His youthful face now seemed grave and serious, and eyes that showed all too well his ever-changing emotions revealed a hidden reservoir of maturity within the boy. You are right, he murmured, that I am naive. I've never fought in a war. I have never seen a person die. Even though I try my hardest not to be, sometimes I'm selfish, sometimes I'm jealous, and sometimes I don't think things through. Am I any different? No.  
  
But, Marquis Elmdor, I'm trying to become a better person. To do that, I try to follow the words and examples set before me. My mother had told me that I must try to understand others in order to understand myself. My father once said that I must never suffer evil, the young man faltered here, his eyes aimed away from the blank-faced noble as he tried to find the right words. If...if I fail in my mission because I followed the examples set before me, I think...I would've at least stayed true to myself.  
  
It was quiet in the bookroom after he finished. Embarrassment crossed Izlude's face and he lowered his head, his heroism slipping away and revealing a confused boy in its stead. Silently he collected his books and he made as if to walk away, but then he glanced at the noble, the man merely staring back with an expressionless face. The young Shrine Knight seemed to want to say something, his lips moving barely more than a twitch, but instead he walked away.  
  
Mesdoram did not watch him go. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and then looked down at his gloved hand. There was a blond strand caught along his forefinger and over his palm, and with the poor light it looked just like silver.  
  
The Silver Noble. The Silver Ogre.  
  
The older he became, the more of life he had to endure, the more the Marquis wondered if it was alright if he finally let himself be taken over by whoever wanted him. Limberry or the Church, God or the devil, the noble or the ogre...but the names had never mattered, had they?  
  
In the end, they were all the same.

-_Gemini_ fades into _Cancer_...-

What do Gemini, Virgo and Sagittarius have in common? They all have too many people under their sign (four or more is a lot, especially considering poor Aries and Taurus). I can't and won't write a story about all the possible characters under one sign if there are more than two, but I will provide analysis for all of them in the story notes.  
  
There is only one common trait that ties Izlude, Kletian, Elmdor, Malak and Worker 8 together as Geminians, and that is their dual natures. Note that dual natures' doesn't mean that they're diametrically opposed. To put it concisely:  
  
-Elmdor is explicitly stated in the Brave Story to be known as both the Silver Noble and the Silver Ogre depending on who you talk to.  
  
-Izlude is an utterly naive boy subjugated by his father, and yet he is also a heroic young man who fights to save Ivalice from evil, even if that means his own father.  
  
-Malak, who acts like a selfish creep, does the right thing in the end and gets himself kille--I mean, sacrifices himself to protect his sister.  
  
-Kletian is a bit more difficult to pin down. We learn exactly three facts about him: he is very intelligent (the Brave Story states that he was at the top of his class in Gariland), he is very devout (the Brave Story then says that he knew he wanted to go to Murond), and he is very devoted to Rofel (Kletian's battle quotes). The duality then can be either of these two things: intellect/devoutness or intellect/devotion (if we infer that Kletian wanted to go to Murond because Rofel was there).  
  
-My theory for Worker 8 is that his sign is more of a hint about his twin' Worker 7 NEW at Nelveska Temple than about any actual characterization. What solidifies this in my mind is that Worker 7 NEW apparently has a variable zodiac sign.  
  
The thing to note here is that with five different characters under one sign, the character creator couldn't link them by explicit characteristics, such as charming' and youthful' and stimulating', which are all Geminian in nature. It seems that for some signs, it is the concept behind the sign and not the characteristics themselves that link the characters together. It is...it kind of makes my head hurt.  
  
Gemini is the mutable air sign, capable of adapting ideas to fit their need at the moment. All the air signs in general are known for ideas and overall intelligence.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
TobyKikami, I completely forgot about the Aries stone. Now I've got this idea in my head that Wiegraf was compatible with the Aries stone because of the loyalty he had to Boco...or something.  
Thanks for the compliments. The fake princess thing is...weird. No one gives a very coherent explanation in this game.  
  
Hey, Hawk of Death. Heh, other than my Arian generics, I've got two Aquarians (Claudia and Junk). They're all better than most of my specials.  
The only other sign with as many characters as Gemini is Virgo, annoyingly enough. I liked it better when I could focus on only one character.  
Ah...Cloud. Meh. I've never played FFVII either, but I do know about the Leo thing. From what I can tell, though, Aquarius fits him a lot better.  
  
Glad you like it so far, Killiko Jun. I remember you from WHW a long time ago. Aquarius...are you looking forward to it because it's your sign, or because of a character? Just curious.  
I know white isn't a color, but non-color' or two colors and a tone' seems unwieldly. :)  
  
Yo, The Burning Misery. Thanks for putting up the second part of your review again; I know that you're usually good with your reviews. I see what you mean about the practical applications of astrology--though there's a lot more to a Leo than that, and some of it coincides with a Libra, trust me--and I'm glad that you know about this stuff anyway.  
Obsessive? Damn straight. That's why it's called _fan_fiction. :)  
I'm glad you liked the symbolism of the story. Your theory isn't obscure at all though, it's the general belief for Delita's actions.  
  
Hello, Supremia! I didn't think I'd be getting a review from the FFX goddess of shoujo-ai herself. :) Hope you like this part!  
  
Jaide DM, it's nice to meet you. I'm kinda disappointed that using the zodiac as the basis of a fic would be so regarded as something new', considering the game and all, but thank you for your kind words. Astrology is indeed what you make of it, and it's great that the director of this game was able to use it as efficiently as he did in order to make these characters work.  
  
Hi, Jaded Soul. Thanks for having an open mind about the series. I don't really believe in astrology either, but I do like it a lot. Anything that can help character analysis has got to be good, right?  
Libra, huh? Haha...I'm really looking forward to that story too.  
  
Luna, it's great to see you again! I thank you for your compliments. It's strange to say, but it doesn't feel right to write a series without seeing you around. Glad to see you're still here. :)


	4. Cancer

The overall nature of Cancerians is deeply emotional. Although private and reserved, they possess sensitivity and sympathy. What appears to be a front is nothing more than a protective shell.'  
  
Zodiac Signal  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**IV. The Crab, Cancer**  
  
The rains fell in large splattering droplets; they'd been coming down in heaving gasps throughout the day, and now that it was night they were free to fall without the embarrassment from being watched while engaging in such a private act. A delicate shudder, in the form of muted bursts of thunder, would occur every so often without the usual dazzling streaks of lightning following soon afterward. The heavens were respectful in that regard, mourning without melodrama. So too were the people, for they had lost a hero.  
  
So too was Zalbag Beoulve, for he had lost his father.  
  
He sat in the late Balbanes Beoulve's study, blankly staring out of the grand floor-to-ceiling window behind the desk, the flame of the solitary candle on the desk reflected in his hazel eyes. It was completely dark within the room save for that one candle, which was what he preferred--needed--right now. Somewhere in the depths of the darkness he could hear his only sister crying, her sobbing muffled behind her small hands as his younger brother tried to comfort her.  
  
In the cool darkness of his mind, he could see this scene, the memory of his father's last moments.  
  
Beyond the pattering of the rain, he could hear his brother Dycedarg's footsteps above his head. No doubt his elder brother was preparing any final adjustments needed for the interment of their father's body tomorrow. Dycedarg had always been that way, methodical and stone-faced, but Zalbag was sure that his elder brother felt the same way he did. Even though one of their father's wishes during the length of his sickness had been for Dycedarg to hand over the title of command of the Hokuten to Zalbag, this was a time that went beyond such trivialities.  
  
With a nearly inaudible sigh, Zalbag ran his gloved fingers through his short hair, his eyes unfocused as he continued to stare out of the window. Insistently, the rain continued to fall until he could no longer distinguish the endless pattering with the sound of his brother's footsteps above or the soft sobbing from his sister in his memory. They were all within a void as dark as the bags underneath his eyes, somewhere far off into the distance where they no longer mattered while meaning the world to him.  
  
The candlelight flickered as the soft wax of the stick began to collapse within itself.  
  
Somewhere behind the body of Zalbag Beoulve, footsteps sounded, hollow and dull until they softly landed upon the large ryozan silk rug in the room. the owner of these footfalls called, startling the young commander.  
  
Who is-- Zalbag turned around, disoriented and reaching for a nonexistent sword at his side, but he ceased this action once his eyes fell upon the intruder. It took a moment for him to bring up the name of this person, but in his jumbled mind he could only grasp at a partial description. You're Sir Orlandu's son, aren't you?  
  
Yes, I'm Olan, the visitor answered politely. I'm sorry to bother you. Your brother Dycedarg answered the door for us, and my father indicated that he wanted to talk to your brother alone. There doesn't appear to be any maids around, so I was unsure of where to leave our valises.  
  
Zalbag closed his eyes after the explanation was over. No, with everything that's happened, it really doesn't matter if the rooms are dusty for a few days, does it? This line ended on a defensive note, and after the creeping silence that followed he seemed to realize his rudeness and turned his head away. I'll show you to your room in a moment, just...  
  
_Leave me alone._  
  
Olan seemed to have other things in mind. I'm sorry for your loss, he said respectfully, I met Sir Beoulve once before, when he was still free of the sickness. He was a very kind man, and my father always spoke of him with fondness.  
  
Something within the older man grew irritable at the condolences. Knowing that he would have to face this sort of pity over and over again over the next few days, weeks or even months ground at his already splintered nerves. Thank you for your generous words, he nearly spat out before he could completely recover his composure. There was the barest feeling of shame, but it was as pitifully small as the candlelight that was determinedly melting a way to its demise.  
  
After a moment, Olan seemed to have found the proper words to say to someone as entrenched in their anguish as the Hokuten commander seemed to be, calmly saying, I didn't mean any disrespect, only the truth.  
  
Within his compact shell of pain, Zalbag merely nodded in response. If he tried to say anything substantial, he knew he would probably be snappishly insulting again. His father didn't raise him to act in such a manner to guests. If Balbanes was here, if he had seen the way his son was acting now...  
  
That was the problem, wasn't it?  
  
He wasn't here.  
  
I felt the same way.  
  
The black-clad knight looked over at Olan again, his face blank save for a small measure of confusion in his eyes. Excuse me?  
  
When my father died, I couldn't listen to reason at all. I was like a crab, snapping my pincers out at anyone who even dared approach me, finding some secret humor in his statement, there was a small smile on the younger man's face that was almost unseen in the darkness. The grief I caused my mother and Sir Orlandu was immeasurable.  
  
Zalbag's mind, immersed as it was in a potent solution of fatigue and despair, wasn't understanding part of the conversation. Excuse me, but didn't you say that your father was Sir Orlandu?  
  
He's my adopted father, yes. My last name is Durai.  
  
Why didn't you take up the Orlandu name?  
  
Olan sighed, and it was louder than the rain outside, my father was a great man. He wasn't as well known as Sir Orlandu, no, but he fought for what he believed in and died for it. I won't disrespect him by turning away from his legacy, and here the darker skinned man shook his head and smiled, though it couldn't be seen by the other man in the room. I am proud to be considered the son of two great heroes of this war. Sir Orlandu accepts this, and is more than happy to let me keep my father's name.  
  
These words burrowed through Zalbag's shell, a sudden feeling of shame piercing through him as he considered them. While he acted in a manner unsuitable for a Beoulve, selfishly focusing on his own pain while ignoring others, his siblings, all of whom shared the very same father he was grieving for, were experiencing the same loss. He knew it would be a long time before he could begin to have the same amount of wisdom Olan had just displayed, but that didn't mean that he couldn't uphold the same pride of the legacy he carried. It wasn't the Beoulve way to shirk away from those in need, and his siblings needed him as much as he needed them.  
  
Something cleansing and comforting descended upon Balbanes's second son as he continued upon this line of thought. He didn't need to stop mourning. He didn't need to stop up the cascade of emotions he felt at losing the one person who had taught him what honor, dignity, and the Beoulve way truly was. He just needed to remember how great of a man Balbanes Beoulve was when he was alive.  
  
He was never going to forget what his father meant to him.  
  
Zalbag thoughtfully looked out of the window and into the light rain, lightly touching his goatee as he did so. I'll show you to your room in a moment, he said, and this time Olan got the hint and left, a peaceful expression on the younger man's face that not even the darkness could hide. The knight stood and walked to the window, his hand drifting from his face to the pristine glass almost unconsciously. He looked out into the night, into the boundless weeping clouds. he whispered, his teeth clenched as he tried desperately not to give into his lingering sorrow,   
  
As he turned and walked out of the room, the neglected candle on the desk fully melted into the confines of its hold, the flame instantly extinguished as it fell into the puddle. That was okay, though.  
  
The sun would rise again tomorrow.

-_Cancer_ fades into _Leo_...-

First, I'm sorry for the brevity; I've got papers due. Plus, there really is so much one can say on this topic before it becomes redundant and, dare I say, insulting.  
  
I really wanted to highlight the Cancerian connection to the family in this story. Both Zalbag and Olan have their ties with their families, and are motivated in the plot to do things because of that connection. Of course, a point of odd irony would be the fact that Zalbag may or may not have ordered the destruction of Delita's only family; whether that is because of friendly fire' or Algus having an itchy trigger finger isn't really something I want to get into here. Cancerians also tend to be kind, and we can easily see this in Zalbag's usual treatment of Ramza (disregarding where he says Ramza has bad blood', since Ramza was saying that Dycedarg was orchestrating the war, bringing up Zalbag's natural defensiveness over his family. See how these things work?), Olan's instant decision to declare himself one of Ramza's allies, and Agrias' attitude towards Ovelia. It seems that Olan's the kindest of the three, hence his role here.  
  
Cancer is the cardinal water sign of the zodiac. While water tends bring deep emotions, the cardinal quality usually highlights more leadership tendencies in a sign. This is fairly obvious in the game.  
  
Other Cancerians: Agrias. With all the fics that focus on her, I'm sure there are some that accurately have her personality down (she certainly seems to fit the blurb I have at the beginning).  
  
-Olan can find all the humor he wants because his job class is Astrologer.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Jaide DM, you certainly were fast about reading the Gemini part, since you were the first reviewer...and the first reader. Well, y'know, Taureans are said to be dependable.  
Thank you very much for your comments about my writing, I find third-person to be fairly hard to write.  
I remember that you said you were a Cancerian; hopefully this part meets your standards!  
  
Hey, TobyKikami, it's nice to know that I was even on a roll to begin with! Teta and Cloud...we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.  
You're right about Wiegraf having Arian traits, but he really fits the standard Virgo I've read in my books. Oddly enough, Velius changes into a Virgo.  
The best/worst compatibility for a unisex Lucavi (Velius, Adramelk, and Altima) turns into simply bad compatibility. I realized this when my Reis was doing a fairly paltry amount of damage to Altima. However, best/worst compatibility comes into effect on Queklain, Zalera, and Hasmalum, mainly because their hosts fit with their zodiac sign. ...I spend way too much time at GameFAQs.  
  
Hello, Hawk of Death! Wow, that's a lot of text. Sorry, but I won't respond to all of it. I think that Elmdor looks cooler than Sephiroth.  
Tricked you with the Cancer story, didn't I? :)  
Leo...that's going to be an interesting story. I still don't have an idea of what to write for it. Most of these stories are written just whenever I think of an idea.  
Um...Wiegraf isn't an Arian, he's a Virgo. Sorry.  
  
Ah, The Burning Misery, is it just me, or do you have really bad luck when it comes to posting a review? And I don't have a photographic memory either, so it's all good.  
Actually, Elmdor wasn't my first choice. The story was originally going to be a Malak and Worker 8 conversation piece. The idea was scrapped when I realized that I really disliked Malak.  
I did mention the Silver Noble' for dialogue. Good afternoon, Sir Knight, the Silver Noble responded in kind before sitting down at another table.' At this point (if you wanted to put in within WHW canon, it would be a couple months before Izlude's side story), I'd like to think that the Marquis was still pretty good. That's the thing about writing the Lucavi hosts; we don't know of their personalities before they got ahold of the stones.  
I'm glad you liked the Gemini story, though I'm not sure how you'll take this story's relative shortness.  
  
Luna...how do I say this without sounding weird...for almost three years, you've been reviewing my stories with an astounding persistence. Of course everyone's reviews matter to me, but I'm especially used to seeing you around. Constructive is relative.  
Exactly the reason why I feel sorry for Elmdor. What, does Sephiroth have something to do with underground libraries or something? I've never played FFVII.  
The Zodiac Brave Story intro is awesome, but I like the music for the explanation of the Lion War (after the title screen) a bit more.  
Izlude's awesome. I shouldn't write him because I'm such an obvious fangirl and I'm biased, but...  
Virgo...hm. That's one of the few parts I actually have relatively planned.  
  
Hey, Killiko Jun, glad you liked the Elmdor/Izlude conversation piece.  
Teta and Cloud are unfortunately the only Aquarians in FFT. Let's hope I can think of a good story for Aquarius by then.  
By the way, thanks for your help. When I use that quote, I'll credit you in that chapter.


	5. Leo

'Leos were born to lead and are most effective when in a position of command. Leos are straightforward, uncomplicated individuals who know what they want and pursue it with enthusiasm and a creative spirit.'

Zodiac Signal

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**V. The Lion, Leo**

The sun had not yet even begun to rise before the voices began to speak to Vormav Tingel.

As he got out of bed, he was told that he lived a pathetic life, playing the guard hound for indulgent and faithless men, their guts bulging with their rich lives while the worshippers starved in the midst of the war and the countless famines. While he put on his armor and adjusted the royal purple surcoat over it, the cruel voices would complain that he was nothing more than a man seeking just the ideal of strength, for he was too much of a coward to face up to the fact that he was undeserving of true strength.

With his armor on, Vormav left the room while vile comments were thrown at his family. He was harped on constantly for having such a soft, worthless son, for having a daughter who played the man so often that it was obvious there was something wrong with her mind, for having a wife who had amounted to nothing. He strode through Murond's hallways while the good name of his dead wife was heckled by the voices, who so loved to cackle that he must have been taken for a cuckold not once but twice, and who knows how many more times there would've been if she had not so rightfully met her end. Other voices called for him to break from this wretched path, to bathe the shining blade of his sword in the blood of his children and to give into his deepest desires of butchering those pompous fools that thought to control him.

He listened to these voices, amused by their meaningless prattle. Did the demons that haunted him think that he could possibly be seduced by such pathetic claims? He was a Shrine Knight for the Holy Father and His Son, he was a father himself of two good children who strove to follow his beliefs to the letter, and his lost wife had been nothing short of an angel during her short stay on Earth. He followed the holy men because he believed in them and their mission to make Ivalice become the paradise it should've always been. After all, he was a Zodiac Brave.

He even had the stone to prove it.

--------

Vormav Tingel stood at the end of the battle, his sword dripping scarlet onto the barren earth.

He had failed.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. He and a few Temple Knights were to infiltrate the pathetic hole a couple cultists had squirreled themselves into after their failure to convert villagers into their bastard religion. It was decreed by High Priest Funeral that these forsaken creatures should stand at a heresy trial, but most of the capable heresy examiners were burdened with other cases. Vormav accepted the case, knowing that it could be completed before the end of the fortnight. His choosing of the magically-inclined Temple Knights was seen by many to be a smart move, for though Commander Tingel was known to be arrogant about his own skills, he still understood strategy. And so the four left Murond, heading over to the cult's easily divulged headquarters in southern Fovoham.

Every move was made correctly, every pre-battle preparation considered. The Shrine Knights' commander would've bet his life on it. Murond's intelligence was always accurate, always trustworthy. And yet, when the Temple Knight on Vormav's right took an arrow in his neck as they approached the small hut on the outskirts of a small village south of Riovanes Castle, it had never occurred to the commander that their information could be wrong. It took the next arrow, skirting over Vormav's shoulder to plant itself directly into the second Temple Knight's throat, before he entertained the idea.

Vormav Tingel did not take lightly to being taken for a fool.

He turned forty-five degrees to his right, where the first arrow had been fired, his sharp eyes catching the glint of the arrow point in the light of the sinking sun. Thrusting out his sword, he roared wordlessly as he unleashed a Shellbust Stab at the hapless sniper, inwardly pleased at the archer's pathetic cry as the cultist's armor was crushed by the Divine Knight skill, the shards tearing their own paths to his heart. Another arrow flew, striking Vormav's back and bouncing harmlessly away due to his Shrine Knight armor. Vormav turned at this, barely noticing as he strode toward the high grasses that hid the other archer that the last Temple Knight had been taken down.

It wasn't as important as the battle.

With the dying sun as his guide, Vormav could see the archer in the midst of the grasses, struggling to fit a bolt into a cheap crossbow. Nonchalantly, he aimed his sword at this spectacle and channeled his energies through it, causing the crossbow to be torn asunder by the Hellcry Punch, and indulged in a short bark of laughter as his enemy shrieked when the force of the skill caused the splinters of the former weapon to lodge themselves into the sniper's hands, arms and face.

With only one good eye now, the cultist looked up and saw the Shrine Knight before him, the dying light revealing the purple surcoat and the knight's role as a Shrine Knight commander. Trembling, the archer held up his bleeding and numb hands in supplication. "O'God, please don't kill me, pleea--"

"Even God Himself can't help you escape from me," Vormav bluntly stated, taking up the massive Ragnarok with one hand and plunging it deep within the man's chest. The last cultist died with just the smallest croak, tears of blood flowing from his ruined eye. Distastefully, Vormav pulled out his sword, surveying the area. His men had died by the hands of two pathetic men?

It was one thing for the mission objective to end up dead if they were just mere heretics. It had happened to him many times before, and no one in the Church cared any. However, it was absolutely unacceptable to the Shrine Knight commander to lose his own troops, even from something as cowardly as a pincer sniper attack.

He had failed his mission, and as he contemplated on what this could entail back in Murond, he reached into his surcoat and pulled out the Leo stone. _If only I had been stronger, more aware_, he thought sullenly, _I would have never lost._

The stone glinted in the dying light of the bloody sunset.

-------

Faced now with his own failure, with the possibility that he even could fail, odd doubts burrowed into his mind and chipped away at his sizable self-pride. If he could be wrong on the battlefield, or if he could fall by trusting completely in someone else's mistake, what else could he be wrong about?

The voices kept talking to him every morning and soon, instead of taking them as mere entertainment, he began to listen in earnest.

-------

His son stood before him, eyes downcast and one hand holding his cheek, which was already starting to turn purple from the force of the blow. The boy, barely fifteen, hadn't uttered a noise, though he visibly winced when he first touched the growing bruise. Vormav was inwardly displeased by such a show of weakness and resolved to wring it out of his son soon. "Well then," Vormav said gruffly, narrowing his eyes in distaste as his son froze at the sound of his voice, "have you learned your lesson? You, of all people, are not to question my orders."

Izlude nodded, his eyes fixed on his father's gauntlet-covered hands. A blow was nothing new to the young Tingel, but his father had never hit him while wearing the golden armor before. He swore that he was bleeding from the cold, sharp metal but didn't dare move his hand to check. "Yes, Father, I am sorry. Forgive my impudence." He tried to say these words strongly, but his voice cracked with the force of puberty and he winced, hoping his father would not think that as a weakness.

Vormav said nothing for a long moment, having noticed everything. It crossed his mind to punish the boy again, but he quickly decided against it. The more he had realized how truly weak his son was, the more he felt that the effort wasn't worth it. Perhaps he really had been cuckolded after all. "Go," he growled, annoyed that he had to work with such chaff. Keeping his eyes downcast, Izlude quickly left the room.

The voices cheered for Vormav's good intentions, and beseeched him to keep improving.

---------

Throughout Murond, there were whispered rumors about the continuing cruelty displayed by Vormav Tingel. To send him out on after an accused heretic was like condemning the accused to death. Many had seen him as an arrogant, prideful man before, but now those qualities had a much, much darker tint to them. His own men trembled before him, though they tried so very hard to make sure that he didn't notice. Lately, he hadn't been above wantonly punishing his own men for their supposed weakness.

Vormav heard these rumors, and he enjoyed the fear. It was the respect he reveled in, knowing that his name invoked such hushed terror. Even the holy men tried not to cross him, knowing that he was a lion constantly in search for his next prey.

This was power, the voices said, this was what he should've grasped from the very beginning. Forget his weak, foolish children. Forget the stupid, indolent holy men. Forget the morals that held him back from this addictive high of strength. What did he need all that for when he could have power in their stead?

He agreed.

---------

Power. What a delicious word. Two syllables, the first harsh and forceful, the second carrying the word through with a seductive resonance. Power is wanted, craved for, absolutely _desired_ by the ambitious. It unnerves the weak, for they know they can never bear it, making them resent their own nature. It is brusquely passed aside by the kind, for they cannot see its worth and therefore do not deserve it. It is a word that tears apart families, peoples, countries since time uncharted, and it is a word that will exist to the end of humanity. Those who have power have the world.

_Do you wish for this power?_

Vormav stared at the stone, intrigued by this new voice. It sounded familiar, and yet it was far more ancient.

_Do you crave this?_

The man exhaled slowly, goose bumps forming underneath the golden armor as the voice washed over his consciousness again. The very air seemed to crackle with fire, enticing him.

_Someone like you can understand true power..._

_Yes_, Vormav cried out in the depths of his mind, _I want this. I need it!_

_Then, you shall have it, holder of the holy stone...you shall..._

The stone in his hand glowed brightly, an ochre tinge cast upon his entire room. He did not flinch as the light blinded him, and inside his mind he heard a laughter like the scraping of dead leaves against the stone ground of Murond.

_I am Hashmalum, the devil...your wish is granted._

The last vestiges of Vormav Tingel's good soul cried out in fear at the name, the name of the regulator who served as the bloody angel's right hand demon. As the malignant force ripped through his meager mental defenses and tore into his soul, he thought that the voices that had been cheerfully subverting him into evil might have been from the demon Hashmalum. To this, he could hear the demon's derisive laughter shredding his mind into wet slices.

_What need do I have to play such a petty game? I only need to ask for men to give themselves to me. Do not blame the devil for your own misgivings, Vormav Tingel._

_Now, you are mine._

As Vormav's soul was mutilated by Hashmalum's fierce taking, there was a small bit of ancient poetry that occurred to him just as the demon assimilated the very core of his being.

_'Do not go gentle into that good night.  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.'_

Yet, even the sun must set at the end of the day.

-_Leo_ fades into _Virgo_...-

I'm of the mind that the Vormav Tingel we get in the game is 'Hashmalum in Vormav Tingel's body' the entire time. The reason his own children couldn't figure that out was because he was already like the persona he is in the game. This leads to my second point, that if this first point is so, it wouldn't be because the stone manipulated him. As we can see from Wiegraf's own taking, all the devil the in the stone does is ask, _if you are of that mindset_. I'm fond of this idea of not blaming the devil for your own sins.

Onto the analysis. Vormav and Alma are very true to form Leos. Vormav's the stereotypical strong leader, while Alma takes on the cheerful, friendly, helpful sort of Leo. My best friend, who happens to be a Leo, is very much like the Alma-type of Leo; henceforth, she's an awesome person. There really isn't much more that I can add that the game doesn't already show. Leo is the fixed fire sign, which is why we see strong leader Vormav and stubborn Alma.

Other Leo: Alma.

-The poem snippet is the last two lines of 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night' by Dylan Thomas. While that poem is about old age and death I think it works wonderfully here as well.

-Leo is ruled by the sun, which accounts for the last line of _Cancer_ as well as the last line of this story.

Reviewers!

Actually, TobyKikami, I thought that the line you quoted was one of the weaker ones in the story. Well, I feel the story itself could've been stronger, unfortunately. Thanks for your comments.

Yo, Hawk of Death. Nope, I'm sorry, Wiegraf is always a Virgo, and in fact converts the Aries stone demon Velius into a Virgo.  
Heh, I only beat the game recently myself. I was having fun killing things with my uber-Reis.  
It's really a coincidence that I've been writing so much of Zalbag lately. I like the guy, but he's not one of my absolute favorite characters.  
Heh, let's not talk about what characters I should write about in the later stories, or else I may just write about another character just to spite everyone.

Hey, Luna. I'm probably going to base my attitude on Square depending on how I like FFXII, since it's made by the same people that worked on FFT and Vagrant Story. If that game turns out to be more pretty videos and easy gameplay, screw it, I'll fully support Atlus. With the FFVII movie and that game based on Vincent (why?) and nothing really new...give me a break.  
Glad you liked the story. I looked around for Zalbag-centric stories, but there aren't any. Hell, there's a Dycedarg-centric fic in this section, and a Kletian-centric story on IcyBrian's site, but nothing really about Zalbag. Though...Zalbag has a fair amount of importance in the IcyBrian-hosted fic _What Makes A Hero_ by Nanaki. Eh.

Supremia, it's not exactly like I'll die if I don't get reviews. :) I appreciate that you do review because it makes me happy, but don't put yourself out for me. With that being said, I'm glad you liked _Gemini_, since I remember that you are a Gemini, and I'm happy you liked the last chapter, because Zalbag's pretty cool.  
Ah, so that's what it is about Sephiroth. Well, that's an odd coincidence. Yeesh, FFVII fangirls...I'm best friends with one, so I understand the sentiment. My first Final Fantasy was VI, years and years ago, so I'm unfortunately lumped in with the oldschool fans.  
And believe me, you're doing more for the FFX shoujo-ai field than...well, anyone else that I can tell. Unless you can recommend something for me?

The Burning Misery, I believe that you write some of the longest reviews, though I'm very honored to receive them.  
See, that's the main problem I had with _Cancer_, that it seemed like a rehash of Gemini. Well, at least the age difference between Zalbag and Olan is just a couple of years as opposed to Elmdor and Izlude's fifteen or so years. Still, twice is once too much.  
Heh, candle symbolism. I couldn't say myself, as the quote goes at a writer's convention panel, "What would she know about the symbolism? She wrote the thing!"  
Ah, thanks for the clarification on Sephiroth. Unfortunately, since I've had the whole plot spoiled for me, I'm probably never going to pick up the game.


	6. Virgo

Quietly reserved, Virgos are polite and soft-spoken people. Unassuming, outwardly cheerful and agreeable, they can be sensible, discreet, wise and witty, with an understanding of other people's problems which they tackle with deftness.'  
  
Zodiac Signal  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**VI. The Virgin, Virgo**  
  
_Brother, I won't be left behind anymore. I'm going to become a knight, just like you!  
  
...If that's what you really want, then I'll teach you myself._  
  
I did not want my sister to become a knight. I still don't, in some ways. She's my only family and has been ever since our parents died from the plague. I can still remember those days. She was eight. I was fourteen. I left her in the care of some friends of the family and set out to become a knight, so that I could use the pay to give her a comfortable life.  
  
I could do it myself, I had thought, it's better this way.  
  
_Stop it! You'll just get yourself killed if you keep throwing yourself into battle. I said stop it!  
  
That's what you expect from everyone else, Wiegraf! Don't tell me to do less! Don't -ever- tell me that!_  
  
When I returned home while in the middle of gathering soldiers for my own troop, I was finally able to see my sister again. She was thirteen. I was nineteen. After five years apart, she welcomed me back by throwing down an old, rusted sword at my feet and announcing that she was going to become a knight. She had the right to become a knight, she exclaimed, and she was going to help Ivalice or die trying.  
  
I never wanted to hear those words from my only family. Not from such a thin, gawky-looking girl with wild hair and eyes that were almost hauntingly piercing. She didn't even look like she had enough muscle to pick up a sword, not to talk of hacking through a battlefield with one. I told her no, and she cursed me out.  
  
It really had been a long time. I didn't think she even _knew_ those kinds of words.  
  
Why did I finally relent? I had hoped that she would quit, that she would understand that the battlefield is no place for skinny little girls with idealistic minds about war and their own efforts in it.  
  
Maybe I was the only idealistic one.  
  
_Why are you doing this?  
  
What a question to ask. Why'. Why do you think, brother?_  
  
There are supporters, there are followers, and then there is Miluda Folles. Could I have asked for a better assistant than her? She is, at once, a relentless warrior, a selfless friend, a thoughtful leader, an unpitying enemy. As long as she has a reason, as long as she has something to serve, she'll be at the forefront with a sword that shines with her fiery will.  
  
She'll be right beside me every time.  
  
I did not want my sister to become this. It's selfish of me, I know that, but somewhere in my mind I still had this hope that we'd get the pay owed to us and we can live a peaceful, calm life. She...neither of us would have to fight anymore. My sister can just be a normal woman, no longer a hardened warrior.  
  
She is twenty-four. I am thirty. Dycedarg Beoulve in Igros has just informed me that the nobles owe us nothing.  
  
I should've known as much.  
  
I sit here now, as the sun shines down upon the ruins of what was our old home, waiting for her to arrive so that I can destroy our dreams. She wanted the money for medicine, for some of our people are at near death from the countless battles. Our white mages are overworked; ethers can only do so much for them. I just wanted to prove to everyone that our efforts would be rewarded, that we didn't have to be name brand knights like the Beoulves, that we didn't have to be nobles for justice to occur for our sake. This is what we both believed in, even though we were depending on the honor of those that have proved, time and time again, that they had none to begin with.  
  
Why do we rush to bend over for them? We fight the nobility's wars, never our own. The war was carried on the backs of us so-called commoners, and for every life extinguished we put two more of our own in their place. We fight and bleed and die, and the aristocrats spit upon the battlefields where, even now, the corpses of our own still rot. Maybe later they will get a few of us to gather up the bodies of our fallen and incinerate them; cremation's a fire spell cheaper than actual burial.  
  
And we, the living, might soon well wish that we had died with our comrades.  
  
No longer. I won't stand for this any longer.  
  
I can hear her steady footsteps as she approaches but I don't turn around. Her hand falls upon my shoulder and I start, just because it is such a strange thing for either of us. She must've not gotten one of the mages to heal those injured ribs, even though I told her to a week ago. She laughs lowly as she carefully settles down next to me, removing her hand from my shoulder afterward; she knows that I've realized that she has, once again, defied one of my orders. Does she care? Probably not even though I wish she would, if just for my peace of mind.  
  
How are the injured? Such an obvious delay from the real topic at hand, but I honestly do want to know. After all, I'm the reason why they're injured in the first place.  
  
She doesn't respond immediately, and when I look over at her I can see the stress lines along the profile of her face. After a moment or two, she glances at me, dark shadows under what used to be bright eyes. Not even the high-level cure spells could ease Eliza's pain, she answers shortly, eyes flickering before she looks out at the razed fields beyond us, the result of the Romandan invasion.  
  
I see. Miluda has always had less of a problem slicing through the battle than with mercy killings. I can understand, but it's just another fact of life for us.  
  
Thank God she hasn't become that cold yet.  
  
There will be no medicine for the others, will there?  
  
I want to apologize. I want to say that it's my fault, that I should've tried harder. Everyone is depending on me, and in this most crucial way I've failed them. But even now I can vividly recall Dycedarg Beoulve's condescending sneer, the wine bottle on his desk that cost more than Father's lifetime salary, the sickly-sweet poison in the form of words that could've only come from a forked-tongued noble...  
  
I may not be good enough, but he's worse. As long as we continue to placate them and treat them like false gods, there will always be nobles like him, an entire aristocracy like him.  
  
No, Miluda, there won't be.  
  
Will there ever be?  
  
I look at her, startled to see her staring right back. Right now, she looks like the little sister that threw down that sword at my feet, all wild hair and deep, desperate eyes belying her determination, her strength. She's different now, more of a warrior now, more of a woman now, but her inner qualities have only grown in all these years of constant battle. What kind of answer can I give her as her brother, as her leader? To tell her no, there never will be medicine, there never will be justice, we might as well stop now...that goes against every principle we ever fought for.  
  
The war may be over, but Ivalice is not free yet. What are our lives worth if we lay down our swords and ideals now?  
  
Did you ever think that the battle would end, Miluda? The question surprises her, I think, because she frowns and looks away. I want to know, I continue.  
  
Isn't life a battle, Wiegraf? she asks in turn. I nod once, knowing that it doesn't matter. You always have these pithy sayings for everything, so let me make one of my own: I'll lay down my sword when the battle ends, but not before.  
  
I sigh. You didn't answer the question.  
  
Like it mattered, she snaps. I give her a hard look, and even though her head is still turned away she slouches slightly. You're still planning on fighting, aren't you?  
  
There are choices in life that feel as if they never were a choice in the first place. I see my comrades dying, I hear the stomachs of the slum dwellers rumbling like the coming thunderstorms, I feel the hated smirk of the nobility as they take and take and forever take.  
  
My sister is good at asking rhetorical questions.  
  
We won't starve any longer. It is a promise, a dream, an ideal.  
  
No brother, we won't, Miluda says, and when she turns to me she has a brilliant smile contrasting with her tired eyes. No one else will suffer for the nobility's sins. We'll show them that we'll always keep fighting this battle, she winces as she stands, favoring her injured right side, but her steps are lighter as she walks away.  
  
I call out, and she pauses, get someone to heal your side. We'll start working on the plans tomorrow. She nods, walking towards the small house that holds our injured. I know she won't go there just yet, that she'll probably grab one of the other knights and start practicing her swordplay. She now has a reason to, after all.  
  
I don't want her to fight, but I need her to.  
  
I may regret letting my sister come with the remnants of our troop in the future. In some ways I already do. But we will need all the manpower possible to challenge the morally corrupt aristocracy that seeks to crush us under their heel.  
  
This is a problem that will never go away unless we do something about it.

-_Virgo_ fades into _Libra_...-

Ah, Virgo. Other than being the only sign where all its members die before Orbonne (excepting Altima, but it wasn't _raised_ before Orbonne either), it's also the sign of practicality, self-perfection, and servitude to others and their causes. And so:  
  
-The Folles siblings both initially serve to improve the lives of their fellow commoners. Miluda dies, and Wiegraf then goes to serve the Church. It is my opinion that when he began to serve himself and his need for revenge, he strayed far enough from his Virgoan roots to attract Velius of the Aries stone.  
  
-Meanwhile, Algus serves the belief that the nobility is so much better than the commoners despite his own disenfranchised noble' status, eventually serving the Hokuten to prove his point.  
  
-Gafgarion serves both Dycedarg and Draclau while believing that Princess Ovelia will introduce more turmoil in the country, what with the whole Orinas thing going on, so in some way he's also serving for what he believes is Ivalice's well-being.  
  
-Celia serves Elmdor, as she/it is a servant of the Lucavi.  
  
Out of all these people, I feel that the Folles siblings fit the standard Virgoan mindset the best as strong, determined people who cared deeply for what they fought for. I'll also note that Virgos tend to place a strong moral standard upon the people they work with, hence Wiegraf's actions throughout Chapter 1.  
  
Virgo is the mutable earth sign, which is supposed to imply adaptable practicality. Considering how many alliances all these people have, I'm not surprised.  
  
Other Virgos: One could make a strong case for Ajora being a Virgo (I'm sure I stated him as such in WHW), but if I can't confirm it, it's off limits for this series.  
  
-When you first see Wiegraf in Chapter 1 at Dorter, Delita makes a comment about seeing him in Igros at the end of the war. Continuity is lovely, isn't it?  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Hey, The Burning Misery. No, it wasn't you that spoiled that game for me. I've got a lot of friends who love VII. Ah, graphics don't really matter to me.  
With a name like yours, I can believe that you like angst. :) I used to love writing angst, but then I calmed down. At this rate I'll be writing sappy romance fics soon enough.  
The truest form of ignorance is not knowing that there was even a question to ask in the first place. Hashmalum of the Leo stone is the boss you fight right before Altima, and his job class is the Regulator. He looks like a large lion wearing a skirt.  
Hn...you know, I would never consider Ovelia, Izlude, Zalbag, Olan, or Vormav as minor characters' to FFT and its plot. I'm curious, who do you consider minor'?  
Yeah, Altima was the demon of the Virgo stone, but why would you expect anything from that?  
  
Yo, Hawk of Death. Who knows what sort of person Vormav was before Hashmalum took over, but considering the sort of children he had, he couldn't have been all bad, right?  
  
Hi, TobyKikami. At first I was going to have a Vormav/Alma conversation, but then I realized that Alma was most likely unconscious the entire time he had kidnapped her. A story about being possessed by a demon is creepy enough, but one-sided conversations between middle-aged men and unconscious teenage girls... (shudder)  
  
Ello, Luna. Nope, Hashmalum pretty much states that those voices were all Vormav's doubts and insecurities and somesuch. Y'know, pride goeth before the fall' and all.  
I remembered that you were defending Wiegraf a couple times during WHW, so, take this as my gift to you...well, unless you don't like Miluda or something.  
  
Nice to meet you, Kupo Stiltzkin! Well, I'm inspired by the smallest things in the game, so I'm glad you like the canon-ness of it all.  
Ah, the Stellazio coin quest. Nope, didn't even think about it until you mentioned it, actually. Anyway, didn't the story of the Stellazio coins have to do with which zodiac sign Virgo was in love with? I've already stated what my inspiration was in _Aries_.  
_I Will Find You_, huh? That work...no, nevermind. If you like it, I'm happy for you.  
Since Serpentarius/Ophiuchus is in the middle of Saggitarius, I'm not going to do it. Sorry.  
  
Ah, Supremia. I agree with you that people should review, but I just wanted to make clear that it's not my primary objective for writing, so it's okay if you miss a part or two. It seems that everyone knows an author who deserves more reviews and several who don't deserve the amount they have, but...well, all we can do is keep supporting what we like. Thank you for your support, especially since I had initially felt that this series was probably not going to interest anyone...man, was I pleasantly surprised.  
I'm glad you liked the last chapter, it was fun to write. Though, I'd say that the stones are more of a gateway depending on the user, but the demons themselves don't force those that can hear them, like you said.  
Sorry to hear that you haven't finished VI. I still haven't finished IV or V myself, however much I'd really like to.  
Your brother really does have good taste. Well, I hope the both of you like this part!


	7. Libra

The basic Libran nature is diplomatic and charming. Libras have an idealistic and generally peace loving nature. They are easygoing and sociable, in general.'  
  
Zodiac Signal  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**VII. The Scales, Libra**  
  
When the bell attached to the door of the general store began to jingle out its little ditty, Mustadio Bunanza paid it no mind, occupied as he was in the store's selection of healing items. Ramza Beoulve had trusted him to keep an inventory of the troop's goods and replenish them at each town as needed, which meant that the mechanic was in charge of much of the funds they gathered in their travels. The shopkeeper, who was pretending to fuss with some weapons while he warily watched the unfamiliar young man out of the corner of his eye, immediately came to attention at the bell's sprightly jingle. Good morning, Sir Knight! How are you today? Here in Zarghidas, we have many fine weapons for your perusal...  
  
No, thank you. I just wanted to look at your mantles.  
  
As soon as Mustadio heard the calmly spoken words of the newcomer, he looked at the door, a cheerful smile adorning his face. Looking at potions was so boring by oneself! Hey, Beowulf! he greeted energetically, bringing up one of his hands in a friendly wave before letting it fall onto the counter, dangerously close to knocking over one of the bottles he had been looking at. The shopkeeper blanched at this.  
  
Beowulf Kadmus, who hadn't noticed this act of carelessness, only smiled back and returned the younger man's greeting, wave and all. Then he noticed the bottles on the counter in front of Mustadio. Are you here under Ramza's orders?  
  
Heh, Ramza doesn't order people to do things when he can help it, Mustadio replied. The knight nodded in understanding before walking over to the racks where the mantles were stored, carefully going through each one. Mustadio went back to his chore, something in the back of his mind nagging him. Since this young man in question had always been a fairly curious sort, he looked up from his goods at his friend--he considered everybody in the troop as his friends, even that strange Byblos thing they picked up from the Deep Dungeon. Beowulf's back was to him, and Mustadio quirked up an eyebrow as he watched the older man go through the mantles. If he concentrated, it felt as though there should be someone else with him...  
  
Oh, hey, where's Reis? Mustadio asked loudly, disrupting the quiet atmosphere and startling both Beowulf and the shopkeeper from their respective duties.  
  
After Beowulf took a deep breath--being in Ramza's group didn't tend to help the nerves--he glanced over his shoulder. She's with Miss Tingel and Miss Galthana, he answered politely before turning back, rectifying his earlier mistake and keeping his guard up this time.  
  
After a full minute in which he figured out just who the knight was referring to, Mustadio nodded. Being from a rather laid-back community, he'd never gotten the hang of the polite language Ramza and some of the others tended to use. Oh yeah? I'm surprised. You two seem like you spend every waking moment together, he commented, raising one hand to tug on his ponytail. When he lowered the hand back onto the counter, he nearly gave the shopkeeper a heart attack.  
  
At these words, Beowulf looked over his shoulder again, a small smile on his face. I'm sure it does. But, I'm happy to see her make friends. In the meanwhile, I thought I'd get her a gift.  
  
The Goug mechanic nodded approvingly at this. He had learned from a young age to show how much he cared for his friends, with material goods and otherwise. One never knew when those friends would leave, either by their own volition or due to whatever life had in store for them.  
  
It then occurred to him that the knight before him would understand that just as well as anybody else.  
  
All the same, he was interested in the gesture and feeling extremely comfortable in the conversation. Hey, that's a good idea, a mantle as a gift. I mean, she's going around with completely bare shoulders and everything. It's kind of odd, y'know, that whole outfit is, but whatever works, right?  
  
The small smile dropped from Beowulf's face, substituted now by a pensive look. Well, actually... he turned to the mantles, I'm the one who bought her that outfit.  
  
...Oh, really?  
  
  
  
Mustadio was at a loss for words. This didn't happen terribly often, except for perhaps after getting obliterated by giant mechanical beings, and in that case he had only been quiet until he had been revived. He was slightly dense, especially when it came to proper behavior, but he never deliberately intended to offend or insult anyone. The knowledge that he might have insulted a friend made him feel very uncomfortable.  
  
So, he backpedaled.  
  
Well, hahaha, I guess that'd make sense. It looks great on her, really great. And she really has lovely skin. I mean, if someone has to bare it all, it might as well be someone who looks good doing it...  
  
It was after the former Temple Knight began to look at him in a very annoyed sort of way that Mustadio realized that he should've just shut up in the first place. So, he decided to change the subject to a nice, neutral topic. So, find a good mantle yet?  
  
Beowulf stared at Mustadio a moment longer before inwardly sighing and turning back to his objects of study. I'm trying to decide between a couple of these, he answered tiredly, but I'm not sure which one would look better...  
  
Oh, let me see, I can help, Mustadio said, leaning over the counter--  
  
-cksh!-  
  
--and when he looked down, he saw glass shards and a spreading puddle of holy water next to the shopkeeper's feet. Said shopkeeper merely held out a hand. Mustadio stared at it.   
  
That'll be two thousand gil.  
  
  
  
Because you broke it. You break it, you buy it.  
  
But it was an accident!  
  
As the mechanic and the shopkeeper bickered over this new development, Beowulf looked at them, then at the mantles he was holding. He shrugged and put the mantles back before walking over to the counter and pulling out a few bills of gil. Excuse me, he called, catching the attention of the other two before placing the gil on the counter, saying in his usual calm tone, This is for the damages.  
  
Quickly snatching up the money, the shopkeeper nodded to Beowulf. Thank you, good sir, he said gruffly before turning to the other customer and yelling, You, get out before you cause any more trouble!  
  
There was a strange look on Mustadio's face as he watched his friend leave. He turned to the irate man and smiled slightly. You don't have to tell me that twice, he replied with a smaller measure of his usual cheer than usual as he headed out of the store. The morning was cool and windy, a typical autumn in this northeastern trade town, and there were very few people outside. The young man ran up to the tall figure of the knight, his strange look from before manifesting into a mixture of worry and repentance. Hey, Beowulf, I'm sorry about all that. I don't have much on me, but once we get to Goug I can--  
  
It's alright, Beowulf interrupted, his tone casual, don't worry about it.  
  
But, but--! Mustadio sputtered incoherently. Weren't you going to get a present for Reis with that money?  
  
The older man merely closed his eyes at this, smiling despite the topic. Like I said, don't worry about it. After he opened his eyes and noticed the look of doubt being aimed at him, he shook his head. Besides, the only elements she feels these days are the ones inside of her.  
  
Mustadio didn't reply for a long moment, instead looking away even as he kept the other man's pace. When he finally did respond, his tone was serious. Yeah, well, it's the thought that counts, right?  
  
That's a good way to think of it, but she--  
  
The clanging of the church bells momentarily startled the two, and they looked over at the small stone church at the same time the massive cherry doors opened, nicely-dressed villagers leaving the sacred building. This sight caused one man to watch this sight thoughtfully while the other looked away with an inscrutable expression marring his youthful face.  
  
I didn't realize it was Sunday, Beowulf said, continuing to watch the parishioners as they crowded the small streets. When he realized that he wasn't receiving a response from the younger man--something of a small miracle in and of itself--he looked over at his comrade. The Germonik Scriptures makes every church hard to look at, doesn't it? he asked in a friendly manner.  
  
Mustadio seemed to be struggling for the right words before he glanced up at the taller man. Not really. Actually, I... he sighed, scratching at the back of his neck before looking away, I don't really believe there even is a   
  
Such an admission was very unfamiliar to Beowulf, who, even when he was a Temple Knight for the Church, had never witnessed anyone admitting such a blasphemous statement. Because of this, he had to admit that he was very interested in hearing more. Why do you think that? he queried, trying to sound completely non-threatening and succeeding for the most part.  
  
Looking extremely hesitant, the mechanic nervously bit his lower lip. Well, ah, you know...being from Lionel and all, it kind of strikes me as strange to tell a Temple Knight why I'm an atheist.  
  
I'm not going to murder you in your sleep, you know, Beowulf commented neutrally, a small smile appearing on his face when Mustadio stared at him in horror. Those days have been over for a long time for me, and I'm happier for it. I'm just curious, that's all.  
  
Oh...well, okay, I guess, the ponytailed young man shrugged. The two men sat down on a stone bench near the church, and Mustadio took a deep breath before he began, still nervous at this act of revealing how completely different he was from the rest of Ivalice's masses. It seemed too good to be true that any Ivalician, much less a former Temple Knight who had been affiliated with the Church, would want to calmly discuss his beliefs with him.  
  
Sometimes, it wasn't such a good thing to be unique.  
  
After a minute, Mustadio looked at his friend. I believe that people use their notion of God' as a crutch, and they never bother to drop it and learn to walk on their own. The image of his own father, bent over and firmly holding onto a solid cane, came into his mind and he unconsciously gritted his teeth. Being from Goug, I've seen firsthand the artifacts of the past. I mean, there's Worker 8, and then there was that Celestial Globe' that Father recreated. All these things were made by human hands, not by any sort of deity, yet all that knowledge disappeared after the Glabados Church came into being...  
  
I understand, but wasn't there a religion in Ivalice during that time as well? The Church of Fara, I believe.  
  
Yeah, but we don't even know if that was a monotheistic or polytheistic religion. We don't know anything about the time of the airships except for what's in the so-called scriptures. Maybe that religion was led by people who wanted advancements in technology, maybe not. But, my problem isn't that religion itself exists, but rather that the idea of an omnipotent, omniscient God' causes people to limit their own potential in reverence' to it.  
  
Beowulf's eyes widened at this. It was easy to see Mustadio and underestimate him, considering the constantly effusive and easygoing persona he often showed, but every once in a while he displayed an odd streak of cleverness that was hard to connect with his usual behavior. I see, the knight said, raking one hand through his slicked back hair. Can you explain?  
  
Sure. Sometimes, a church official will come down to Goug and gather up all of us in the mechanics' community and warn us that, while it's good to dig out artifacts in the drifts, if we start rebuilding them it's like saying that we're trying to challenge Mustadio gauged the blank look on the older man's face and shrugged, you know, that there's a reason that all the airships and such disappeared, since they dared to try to reach heaven' itself.  
  
But even without that example, doesn't everyone believe that heaven' is this beautiful and grand place where the poor and the good of heart will enter after they die? Being a commoner and all, that sounds pretty attractive. You see all the slum dwellers practically craving for death so that they can reach this promised land' instead of trying to live out the life they have now and making something of it.  
  
Then, wouldn't it be more correct to assume that the idea of Heaven would be more of a tool used by the aristocracy in order to control the lower classes? As it is, used by the Church, it seems to be more of a gift of hope, that there is a good place for good people, the knight's dark eyes took on a faraway look, murmuring, even if you can't find it here.  
  
Hey, Draclau was pretty fat when I saw him. The aristocracy and the Church are pretty much the same thing these days.  
  
...So then, what do you think about the idea that God and Heaven gives people hope?  
  
Mustadio paused at this question, tugging at the end of his golden ponytail. Considering that most of the scriptures were written by Ajora and his disciples, doesn't that make them null and void? He was a spy, not the Child of God' or anything. The only way to even know if there even is a god' and a heaven' is to die, so what does it matter now when we're still alive?  
  
You didn't answer the question, Beowulf said politely. What about hope?  
  
...If it's any kind of hope, it's a cold one, the mechanic bluntly stated. When I die, I'm dead. I won't die hoping there's an utopia waiting for me, I'll die knowing that I did the best I could with my life.  
  
That's a good answer, the former Temple Knight complimented with a smile, but, what about your friends and family? Don't you think that it might comfort them to know that your soul is in a better place? With the Lucavi proven to be real demons, we now know that we have souls that can be usurped by evil.  
  
Mustadio looked down at his lap. I don't know about that, about souls and stuff. All I know is the here and now. Tell me, he looked up, staring at the other man with an unusual intensity, if there really is such an awe-inspiring deity, why would he let the very people he created suffer?  
  
Beowulf said nothing at first, only holding the gaze that connected him with the younger man. Finally he broke it, looking up into the vast blue skies with a sad smile on his face. I think that, if you really want an answer, we should look into human nature, not up at God.  
  
I guess, Mustadio shrugged, looking away, or maybe looking into human nature is where you'll really find 

-_Libra_ fades into _Scorpio_...-

First of all, there will be no updates for this series in November. The reason is explained in my bio, because this isn't the place for it. Also, I hope I didn't offend anyone with the topic of this part.  
  
Libra, the sign of partnerships. I wanted to display a quality that I keep reading about but have never really been privy to (and both my parents are Libras), mainly that they can have dignified discussions without it turning ugly, even sensitive subjects like religion. To focus on a negative aspect that is shown in the game, Libra is one of the few signs (Gemini and Cancer being the others) that apparently has a reputation for being manipulative. These two do the exact same thing, which is to manipulate Ramza into helping them get what they want by not telling him anything until it's dragged out of them. This is particularly ridiculous with Beowulf, who doesn't even bother to tell Ramza that that huge, purple dragon might actually be something completely different _until_ they find the Cancer stone...which he then claims for himself (as seen in the Brave Story scene Reis' curse'). At least with Mustadio, Draclau gets out most of the story from him (though, that was because the Cardinal was involved, but...). I don't like to look into the more negative aspects of a sign, but it's quite the odd coincidence otherwise.  
  
Other than that, Libras tend to be friendly people with strong morals as well as romantics, which would explain why Beowulf is one half of the only successful relationship in the game (because people who love each other tend not to kill each other. At least, that's my belief.)  
  
Libra is the cardinal air sign of the zodiac, which the game shows pretty consistently that it means that its members are leaders, but in a more subversive way. In a more literal sense, Beowulf was the leader of the Lionel Holy Knights. Its opposite sign is Aries.  
  
-When Mustadio has too high of a Faith quota to stay (that'd be over 94 for permanent Faith), he says, I'm an atheist. But, I believe in the Lord more than you do.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Hey, Hawk of Death. I think that, out of all the pairs of siblings in the game, the Folles siblings are the best. They're just cool. Well, actually, I like Wiegraf a little less because of how he was Crush Punching anyone who even dared to breathe within three or four spaces from him in the first battle. Jerk.  
  
Hi, TobyKikami. Well, okay, the lines you mentioned this time were lines that I liked. I don't think there are any witty lines in this part...a person can only go so far being snarky.  
  
Hello, The Burning Misery. I tend to believe that the characters in Ramza's group are the most minor people of all; after all, after they join, they basically cease to exist unless it's Agrias at Golgorand or Meliadoul at Murond's shrine. I just like focusing these stories--and most of the ones I write in general--on characters that aren't focused on in the FFT fic-fandom.  
Poor Simon. He gives you the Germonik Scriptures, which he even translated himself, and you call him minor'? Poor dude. :)  
I believe that Wiegraf cared too much in the beginning. He kills Gustav and chatises Golgaros for their kidnapping schemes because those are actions that disagree with his own moral code. The entire reason why he created the Death Corps was because of how much he cared for his fellow commoners. He becomes truly harsh and unfeeling, in my opinion, when he joins the Church for personal power, for that is when he starts forsaking his own morals.  
You are more than welcome to disagree about the Gafgarion note, but it wasn't an opinion. He says as much about why Ovelia needs to die at Zirekile Falls. Actually, ol' Gaffy's a very interesting character, because while he cares a lot about money, even he's repulsed by Dycedarg's willingness to kill Ramza and tries to convince Ramza to go back to Igros. Well, he's not the caricature of the heartless mercenary is what I'm trying to say.  
  
Yo, Luna. You shouldn't say all siblings in this game have a strong relationship', because what about Queen Ruvelia and Duke Larg? Well, you're right, but I like nitpicking, sorry--  
I didn't realize it before, but you're right about the older sibling goes nuts after the younger one dies' thing. Heh, I guess you can kind of add Ramza to that, considering how he is after Alma gets kidnapped.  
I honestly feel that Wiegraf should've joined the party, or something partially useful to my team. I so would've taken him over Agrias. Sometimes I feel that the whole Lucavi plot cheapens' the political atmosphere of the plot, but it would've been a hopeless endeavor to fight against the political structure, right?


	8. Scorpio

'Scorpios are known for their intense and powerful natures. They are willful, proud and calm with an electrifying undercurrent of seething intensity. Purposeful and animated with force, they project a magnetic personality.'

Zodiac Signal

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**VIII. The Scorpion, Scorpio**

No matter how used he was to death, Cidolfas Orlandu still felt a dull ache of sadness every time he was confronted with it. There were countless bodies strewn about on the vast, barren fields of Zeltennia. He mourned for each and every one of them, whether they were friend or foe, Nanten or otherwise. Their deaths were unnecessary, a waste of so much potential, and all for a war that ultimately meant nothing. He was proud to be a part of the ongoing peace process, but his pride faltered now.

Balbanes Beoulve, his closest friend and the progenitor of the treaty between Ivalice and Ordalia, was dead.

It was as dark inside the spacious Beoulve manor as it was outside. He found it appropriate, given the circumstances. Each step he took echoed dully in the vast atrium, one after another until his stride could not be distinguished from the pounding rain. Despite the news that had brought the Holy Swordsman and his son here, his finely honed senses were strumming up and down his spine as if he were a freshly strung lute. A part of his mind was dulled and at peace, mourning the man who had sought nothing but it, but another part of his mind was paying attention, parting through the shadows and the steps and--

"Before you retire for the night, why don't you come with me to my office. I wanted to talk to you about Father's interment tomorrow."

"Of course," was all he could say, staring at Dycedarg Beoulve's back, trying to differentiate it from the darkness. When he still could not after a minute, he had to wonder if it was because of his age, or something else that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the man in front of him.

He felt as if he had just been invited into the behemoth's den.

They walked up the stairs, the elder behind the younger, in a silence nearly palpable with the cold sensation of sharpened knives. Understandable, as the two men only tolerated each other. Cidolfas could not explain why he had never warmed up to the eldest son of his best friend, only that something made him wary. There was something seething within those dull hazel eyes and stony countenance, a writhing darkness that could've never been inherited from the eternally pure Heavenly Knight. That was why he had asked Olan to take care of the bags and to find their rooms; the young man was capable of taking care of himself, but the eldest Beoulve was far out of the astrologer's league. Cidolfas, much as he hated to admit it, had the same pulse of darkness inside himself. It would be easier to talk to Dycedarg without prying eyes, especially since the elder knight had something he wanted to know. While he didn't care for the ducking and weaving of what would surely make up the upcoming verbal battle, the subtle half-truths and outright lies mingling with the sickly-sweet venom only those with a silver tongue can spew, it had to be done.

Hide and Seek was never truly a child's game.

Up more stairs than should be required in any one house--or castle, for that matter--and the men entered a room cobwebbed with shadows. Dycedarg set about in lighting fresh candles while Cidolfas stood at the door and watched the darkness scatter farther into the corners with each lit candle. There was an image in his mind, that of the eldest Beoulve working into the depths of the night. A lone candle on the table served the need for light while the shadows surrounded the man, hovering over him like the antithesis of a painted picture of Saint Ajora with the requisite golden aural halo.

When the room was bright and cheery and completely wrong for the overall looming atmosphere, Cidolfas stepped inside the room and sat down at the chair Dycedarg had placed at the front of the grand mahogany desk. The other man, in the meanwhile, pulled out a bottle of wine, Limberrian by the look of the slim, cherry-black bottle topped by a light cork. "What are we celebrating?" the Holy Swordsman asked, his tone harsher than he would've liked. He was bothered by the light and the black.

Balbanes, dead.

"Of course, there's nothing to celebrate," Dycedarg said, his voice mildly chiding while his hazel-green eyes glittered like a glacier clogging up Larner Channel. "Father loved this brand. It's a good year, eighty-one," he continued, using the Church's method of counting the years instead of the common vernacular.

A lie, lobbed straight at Cidolfas' face. He couldn't believe it. Balbanes cared little for wine, as it was too harsh on a palate used to bland rations. 'Eighty-one'? That was nine years ago. An icy feeling caressed the older man's skin like a past lover's touch. Wasn't that the year Balbanes' pretty second wife had been paralyzed by a riding accident?

"I see," was all he could say in response, his face bland, his mind churning out suspicions and theories.

The Lune Knight put two wineglasses on the orderly desktop, corking the bottle with a deft ease and pouring a portion of its contents into a glass, which he handed over to the other man. "Try it, Sir Orlandu. See if it's to your liking."

Cidolfas looked down into the dark liquid and a memory bubbled up, one of Balbanes and an innocent sneeze.

"Certainly."

The wine went down well enough, a perfectly principled sourness followed by the appropriate aftertaste. To the man who had traveled from Bethla to Igros with nothing but the greasiest of foods and driest of ales to sustain him, it was seductive in its taste of richness, of a life indoors that he chose not to live in favor of rations and well water. But this one meager sip left him wanting, and he supposed that was the way of nobles and wine, royalty and land, humans and power.

Dycedarg was running long fingers through his thin beard when Cidolfas looked up from the wine glass, an unreadable expression on his face like always, yet tinged with something that made the elder man pleased.

Annoyance. The tiny pause before Cidolfas drank the offering of wine must've made him wary.

_How strange_, Thundergod Cid mused.

"I assume it's to your liking," Dycedarg smiled thinly.

"Naturally. It was Balbanes' _favorite_, after all. The man had good taste, barring a few things."

"Of course, that's the same with everyone."

"Not at all. I've known some people who thought they knew everything, but it turned out that they were...lacking in one area or another."

The eldest Beoulve kept smiling, though it seemed a bit pinched. "That's how it is with _taste_. No one could possibly know how to please other people, no matter how renown their taste may be."

Cidolfas paused. He thought that he was controlling the double talk, but there was something behind Dycedarg's words that seemed...like the other man was speaking of an entirely different matter. Not at all perturbed by this, the elder man merely gestured to the wine glasses. "It doesn't seem right to have empty glasses. You should indulge a bit, I'm sure the loss of your father must be weighing you down."

"Isn't that guilt?" Dycedarg remarked as he amiably poured the wine. Cidolfas raised an eyebrow at this.

"Excuse me?"

"Guilt weighs people down."

"Oh, but what would you have to be guilty about?" The question was more than a little sardonic. "Surely you didn't wish Balbanes ill will?"

The younger man leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his face as he drank the wine. "Oh no, I didn't wish it."

Cidolfas had never thought that six words could sound so truthful and yet so viciously a lie at the same time. "I wouldn't have believed it to be true even if you did. Balbanes spoke well of you," _but he never spoke of you with such pride as he did of Zalbag and Ramza_, he didn't finish.

"My father had kind words to say to everyone," Dycedarg replied, and it was the first thing he had said that wasn't pitted with the acidic residue of a lie. "But, that is not what I wanted to talk about."

"Ah, yes. The interment, correct?"

"Yes, as well as afterwards," Dycedarg affixed a searching gaze upon his elder, who had merely raised an eyebrow. Better to wait him out, Cidolfas knew; the Lune Knight had a reason behind every syllable. "I hope that, despite my father's death, there will still be unity between our families."

'Why?' the Holy Swordsman nearly asked, but knew that would lead to an entrapment of lies and half-truths. He could almost taste them now, mixed in the wine, _Balbanes' favorite_. Instead, he idly rubbed the bottom of the fluted glass with a leather rough thumb, his stance that of the innocent. "When has there not been? The Beoulve and Orlandu families have been bound by the tenets of honor for over a hundred years now."

The other man seemed to bristle at that, though his expression was neutral. "Yes, Father had often mentioned that when he was alive."

"Is there a point to all of this?" Cidolfas asked briskly, suddenly wary.

"I only wanted to be sure of the ties between our families, now that Ivalice is headed for a new age," Dycedarg answered smoothly, washing down his words with wine, "things are bound to change."

_Finding allies when your father hasn't even been lowered into his grave yet_, Cidolfas realized, at once both sickened and amazed by Dycedarg's words. He placed his glass onto the desk and stood, feeling a sudden need to leave before his patience dwindled like the flames of the candles in the study. "I'll say this much, Dycedarg," he started, his voice even, "the Orlandu name is devoted to loyalty, as much to one's lord as to the people. But that loyalty has a second clause, and that is to stand by those who hold true to the honor of their name...no matter how things change."

The Lune Knight looked as if he had tasted something bitter. "Fitting words for one's epithet," he finally replied.

"Perhaps," Cidolfas smiled, though it looked like a grimace with the dancing candlelight playing over his face, "but I don't plan on leaving this world yet. I will see you in the morning." With those words, he left the study, his sharp eyes catching a glimpse of Olan and his yellow mantle in the darkness. He could not help but think of the fate of his departed friend's family as he strode through the night-cloaked hall, a glimmer of worry at what could happen now that Balbanes was gone. Now Dycedarg was the head of the Beoulve family, the first of that esteemed name.

Tomorrow...what then?

-_Scorpio_ fades into _Sagittarius_...-

It's nice to be back. I had a lot of fun, writing and playing Shin Megami Tensei III: Nocturne and Katamari Damacy (both excellent, wonderful games that happen to be polar opposites), but it's time to get this series squared away!

Scorpio, the sign of driving passions, of secrets, of life and death and rebirth. Oh, and of sex. Can't forget about that, though with the Scorpios in FFT I'd kinda like to. (Bleh, sorry.) There is an astrological theory that says that there are three stages of Scorpionic personality, which can be outfitted upon our three Scorpios:

-The Scorpion: I know, you weren't expecting this, were you? This is the stage of emotion and instinct, where one is more likely to sting themselves than others. Actually, I'd say that Dycedarg could fit this one, if only in the way he blew up at Zalbag over the 'you're not upholding the honor of the Beoulves' and then proceeded to out himself as Balbanes' murderer. But, then there's--

-The Eagle: This is the stage of exercising power through intellect. Dycedarg thought he was smart, and so did Draclau. All those complicated plans, their diagrams of betrayal, all foiled by a mere _squire_.

-The Dove: The final stage, this is where the Scorpio exercises power through love. Ah, Orlandu through and through. Showing a lot of love through All Swordskill, the cheap bastard. _And_ Excalibur too.

But, other than that, the general traits of a Scorpio show through all three men. Driven, powerful men, all with their own secrets. Scorpio is the fixed water sign of the zodiac, and the opposite sign is Taurus.

Reviewers...actually, it's been a month. Do you really remember what you wrote a month ago? Sorry, but I doubt it. Thank you for reviewing, though!


	9. Sagittarius

'Sagittarians are positive people; they have a bright outlook on life, full of energy and vitality. Versatile, adventurous and eager to expand their range beyond the comfortable and familiar. Better at adapting than inventing, they work well in collaboration with others.'

Zodiac Signal

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**IX. The Archer, Sagittarius**

An arrow flies through the murky sky, whistling a melody of death as it plummets towards the earth.

For this one arrow there are numerous targets, shrieking and running through the cobblestone streets like headless chickens, and some of them are bleeding just as much. They push each other down, trying to appease this arrow and its brethren by offering to them sacrifices. Have my neighbor, my friend, my family member.

Just don't take me.

Everyone is running in Goug, but while the flow of people try to reach shelter at the expense of their fellow man, there are two teenagers shoving through the stream of people, scrambling towards the source of the arrows. They are the salmon of the waterfall that is Goug's slums, and just like the fish they need to get to the very top in order to continue their lives, to make sure they will survive this attack.

Their arms hold odd machinery, clunky and heavy, impeding their short journey just as much as the people. Arrows whistle through the air, one striking an old man in the back. He falls, nearly causing one of the boys to stumble over his body and follow his example. That adolescent, with short blond hair and a long face, stares at the dead man for too long before the other kicks him, startling him into continuing. He glares balefully at his dark-haired friend, but that one could not care less at the moment.

Ducking into the specified alley, they climb up rusted ladders, hoisting their metal artifacts without an ounce of delicacy. There are arrows stuck upon the tile roofs, but thankfully there are no bodies to stumble on. This roof is a good vantage point, and the boys can see the troops in the distance. Without a moment to spare, they compile their machinery, putting it together with the wrenches and screwdrivers they had made from the ore they could ferret away from the mines. Ivalice wants swords and armor, and Goug is a viable depository. The Church has made a killing from the sales.

Minutes later, it is completed. While bulky and ungainly, it does not cause the roof underneath to collapse. The boys push it into position. The dark-haired one aims it. When it fires, it decimates part of the enemy archer brigade in the distance, and the hail of arrows quells. With the skies suddenly silent the Lionel Holy Knights charge into battle, and the boys watch the skirmish with interest.

It is a short one. The Ordalian army is routed, and they flee. The Shrine Knights are victorious, but they do not go to help the slum dwellers, not the ones that were struck down, nor the ones with missing family.

The blond of the two sighs. "I never wanted to create something that could kill," he says, his face marred with disdain and regret. His friend glares at the scene of the lazy knights.

"Goddamn knights. Why aren't they helping? They didn't even do a damn thing until we used our super cannon--"

"Don't connect me with that damn thing!"

"Shut up, Besrodio!" The dark-haired boy growls. "There's a war going on! If we keep making weapons, we'll show those damn nobles what we can do! Don't you want that?"

Besrodio shakes his head vehemently. "No, I don't want glory from death! I only promised to help you just this once, Balk! Now the Ordalians are gone! Isn't that good enough?"

"Only if you want to be a slum dweller for the rest of your life," Balk spits out. He gestures to the knights below, who are now leaving. Whether they are finally giving chase to the Ordalians or merely heading towards their headquarters in Lionel castle town is unknown, but there is no doubt as to what the dark-haired youth thinks. "Those bastards. Going back to the nobles instead of helping us. They'd all be dead if it weren't for our tactics." His voice rises as he impotently screams down at the departing knights. "You hear me? You all should be fucking _dead_!"

They are not heroes. That honor will go to the Holy Knight Alphons Draclau.

--------

The arrows shriek through the air, harpies swooping in for the kill.

Ten cadets stand ten paces away from ten colored boards, their red dots on white backgrounds giving the appearance of ten disconnected eyes. The instructor of the class stands behind them and watches as they pull back the taut strings of their bows. On his word they let go. Rarely does someone hit the monster right in the pupil, and with an air of resignation the cadets pull out another arrow from their quivers and ready their aim once again.

He is one of them, the last in the line. That does not mean he gets a respite from the instructor's sharp eyes. Indeed, it seems as if he is singled out the most, though his arrows do not sink into the target any less than the others. He does not retort, does not fight back. It is an honor to be here in Gariland Magic Academy, can't he see that?

He can.

Ten arrows fly. Seven of them hit the red. Two of them hit the white. One lands in the trunk of a nearby tree. The instructor ignores this, for it was Ramza Beoulve's arrow. Ramza Beoulve, he of the legendary family. He of the impeccable bloodline. He of the high-ranking brothers. He of the father who had recently passed away, bless that man. So, if dear young Master Beoulve's aim should be just a titch off, if he does not react to commands just as fast as everyone else, it is fine. The poor boy is mourning his heroic father, may Saint Ajora receive him.

Delita sees this with blind eyes. It is happening, it is always happening, but Delita can rationalize with the best of them. He knows Ramza does not like the attention. After all, Ramza is his best friend. Ramza just wants to be treated normally, to be just like the rest of the cadets. It is not his fault that the instructors show such blatant favoritism. Delita is not jealous.

The bell rings out, harsh and annoying. Class is over, everyone is dismissed. Slowly, Ramza goes over to the tree and pulls out three arrows. He is quiet, simmering in the humiliation no one dares speak of. "Hey," Delita starts, his tone quiet, sympathetic, "you want to keep practicing? These short bows...can't do anything with them, unless you throw them at the enemy."

Ramza nods, still facing the tree he has so cruelly abused. "Alright," he pauses before turning around. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm pretty pathetic at this, aren't I?"

When the occasion calls for it, Delita knows how to be tactful. "You could be worse."

"No, I can't!" It is sudden, this primal scream that rips free from Ramza's throat, and Delita can only stare at his friend in surprise. "I can't be any worse! I'm already the worst of the Beoulves!"

This again. Delita knows all too well the pain Ramza hides in his heart. Being the youngest son, the one with examples of the shining name in his elder brothers, he is tormented by the comparison. He is no Zalbag, brave commander of the Hokuten. He is no Dycedarg, intelligent aide to Duke Larg.

He is just Ramza, half blood bastard son of Balbanes.

Delita knows everything about Ramza, but there are some things Ramza does not know about Delita. His hands clench when Ramza mumbles an apology and walks away. That is so like the blond, Delita thinks, running away from all his mistakes instead of confronting them head on. Delita could have never afforded to adopt such an attitude, he has to take care of his dear sister Teta. He does not have the Beoulve name shielding him from the harshness of life like poor tormented Ramza. He is just a commoner, one clinging to the end of Balbanes' resplendent cape of kindness.

He is just hanging on for dear life, constantly afraid of losing favor with the Beoulves.

Even though Ramza is naive and self-centered, he is still Delita's best friend. Delita has never consciously thought that he is using the blond, trying to get a foothold on life with the other boy's family name. They are friends, and that is how it will always be. Neither has it ever occurred to Delita that Ramza may be using him.

Ah, sweet friendship.

---------

A gunshot rings through the air, manmade thunder and lightning in one.

Balk laughs as the Ordalian prisoner falls, bleeding from the chest. The Church wished to see an example of the famed 'gun' restored and awaiting mass production in Goug. It could revolutionize warfare...at the appropriate price, of course. Balk is the demonstrator, but he claimed to need a live target. The church officials are impressed by the velocity of the weapon--why, you can't even see the bullet! one exclaims--and by the convenience of the gun. So small, not at all clunky and troublesome to put away like the bow and arrow. From eight paces the gunner is accurate, just like the bow. The only problem is the maintenance of these delicate, unusual weapons.

No problem, not for Balk. He still has Besrodio's complete blueprints for the weapon, even though the mechanic originally had a different mind for the discovery. Not like it matters anymore. Balk took the originals.

The church officials want to make a deal with Balk. In return for the prints for the gun, they would like to make him a Shrine Knight, despite the fact that he was blacklisted by the other militaries for joining an anti-aristocractic movement. Perhaps they even prefer this. Either way, they are being cheap.

But the Shrine Knights get all the glory.

----------

A crossbow bolt flies through the air, screeching frightfully through the cold.

It finds a warm place through the bosom of Teta Hyral. Her blood spills, staining her lavender dress magenta, the thin shaft of the bolt wine.

Delita watches this, and later he could swear that, when the bolt sank into the heart of his sister, something died in his own.

---------

Arrows sing like the crying wind, Delita thinks as he watches the Murond archers practice. Irritating, annoying, but ultimately captivating. He watches the arrows fly in a perfect arc before sinking into the marked targets, and he remembers archery practice at Gariland. Were those fun times, good memories?

He shakes his head. He does not have time for this. At noon he is to leave Murond and travel to Orbonne. The Hokuten have been lax about keeping their plans to move Princess Ovelia secret, and the opposition is expected to be light. They are relying on mercenaries, of all things.

Delita walks away from his spot, intending to go to his room in the knights' quarters and get changed into his Holy Knight armor. Could he have ever become a Holy Knight in the Hokuten, he wonders, or would he have been fated to watch Ramza climb the ranks with the disgusting ease only family ties can provide?

Lost in his thoughts, he nearly walks into another man. "Watch where you're going, kid," the man grunts before taking another look at Delita. The young man quietly assesses the older man, deciding whether he should be treated with respect or brushed aside. By the make of the armor and the surcoat, it is obvious this man is one of the Shrine Knights under Vormav Tingel, and so Delita decides he is of no use.

The man thinks differently. "You're Vormav's 'Black Knight', aren't you?"

"Yes." Delita does not mind Vormav's name for him. It is appropriate enough. "Delita Hyral."

Nodding thoughtfully, the man clasps Delita's shoulder. "Balk Fezol. So you're the one that's going to wreck the nobles, huh? Good. Give them what they deserve!" He lets go, gives a curt nod, and continues on.

Delita smiles. How quaint. The Church really is made up of people who are just like everyone else, easy to fool and easier to manipulate.

---------

An arrow soars through the boundless skies, and its relative smallness just makes it easier for it to keep flying higher.

-_Sagittarius_ fades into _Capricorn_...-

Let me be straightforward and say that this was the hardest story to create on a conceptual level. In fact, I had been stressing over it since I started this series and I still don't know if this is even good enough. Well...there are four Sagittarians: Delita, Balk, Zalmo and Lede. As in Gemini, I can't help but wonder if it's the overall concept of the sign and not the descriptions of those under the sign that matters most. In this case, I would say it wouldn't be the archer but rather the arrow, a small, deadly weapon propelled by the use of an instrument and the owner's use of force. Looking at the jobs of all four characters, they seem to be people who do the dirty work of others; the last line of the beginning quote seems very appropriate. Even Delita, who breaks free and uses everyone was initially working for the Church as Vormav's lackey. They're all dangerous people in one way or another; even Zalmo is said to have lots of influence both inside and outside of the Church.

One of my books states that the spiritual goal of a Sagittarius is 'to learn to use their talents to guide others', which fits into one of Delita's quotes a little too well to be ignored.

Sagittarius is the mutable fire sign of the zodiac, a sign of adaptability; with people like Delita, Balk and Lede, it makes a lot of sense. Its opposite sign is Gemini. An oddity: Lede has best compatibility with Elmdor.

-I recently found a list in my files of FFT birthdates, including NPCs. It seems to be zodiacally incorrect with some of the major characters, but most of the dates seem to be correct. I probably won't update the stories to reflect this knowledge. Credit goes to whoever wasted their time walking in-between two cities to find out this knowledge, your sacrifice has been noted! Here is the list of NPC zodiacs:

Orinas: Sagittarius  
Ruvelia: Aquarius  
Balmafula: Leo  
Besrodio: Scorpio (This makes a lot of sense, considering his driving passion as a machinist.)  
Daravon: Virgo  
Larg: Leo  
Goltana: Virgo  
Gustav: Libra  
Golgaros: Taurus

What a crappy Taurean. That Libran isn't much better, either. Once again, due to some noted inaccuracies, note that this list may have errors.

Reviewers!

Hey TobyKikami. Yeah, implication contests are cool. Oh, and about that thing we talked about, I'll have it up in two weeks. Finals are bugging me. Though, thanks for the compliment on my new email address.

Hi, Hawk of Death! Thanks for the compliments. You know, I wonder if anyone out there actually likes Dycedarg. Glad you liked story-Orlandu though; I like his personality, but I've never really used him in my game.

Yo, Luna. See, with Orlandu...I took his sword, gave it to Ramza, and booted the old man out of my group. Well...okay, I also took the rest of his armor! Half the specials got this treatment...  
Yeah, Scorpio didn't have very much to comment on. And about Scorpio and sex, I had to mention it. I think the only other sign that comes close to Scorpio's supposed raw sexuality is Leo...eh...

It's nice to meet you, Evil Mina. You're the poster who created the 'Mrs Hyral sure is talented...' topic on the FFT board at GameFAQs, aren't you? Believe me, I'm always happy to receive new reviews, because I never believed that anyone would care about the zodiac signs.  
I'm really glad you like all of the stories. I think the most fun part of _Zodiac Signal_ is that, as long as I stay within canon, I can use whatever characters I like and experiment with all sorts of writing styles ('cept for second person POV because of FFN rules now).

Hello, The Burning Misery! Everyone really seems to like Orlandu from what I've seen...I feel a bit left out of the Orlandu cult. ;)  
I honestly can't say how far Matsuno, the director of FFT, really took the zodiac angle. I seriously doubt that he went so far as to delve into the Scorpionic stages...but it's interesting how well everything seems to fit. Maybe it's just me.  
My God, a short TBM review? Somehow, it's still bigger than the others for Scorpio. Good luck in Chem!


	10. Capricorn

'The Capricornian is generally a serious character possessing a wry sense of humor. Independent, steady as a rock, Capricorn reflects earthly values that range from clever to vacuous. Reliable in any profession they undertake, but lacking in orginality, they usually excel in following up on what someone else has started.'

Zodiac Signal

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

(Second of the 'Fields of Green and Gold' series)

**X. The Goat, Capricorn**

The chapel of St. Murond was always gloomy despite the perpetually lit candelabra set in the middle of the room. Perhaps it was because these candelabra were situated at the corners of the coffin of the child of God, the holy Saint Ajora. The coffin was a mere artifice; no bones rested within the ornate golden box. Laid out on top of the coffin was a silver coat, a relic from the age of airships that was said to have once warmed Ajora as he preached the good word during a winter in what was now called Fovoham. Coat, coffin and candelabra sat upon the bier, which was made of pure gold blocks formed in the shape of a gradiented pyramid, step upon step leading up to the heart of the Glabados faith. The constant flickering flames caused shadows to rise and fall at every moment, hovering over the coffin as if they were waiting for a chance to strike.

This room, where light and darkness held an uneasy truce, was Rofel Wodring's favorite place in all of Murond.

He came down here now, needing a quiet place to meditate on the plans Vormav Tingel had set into motion. Tomorrow the commander's son and the former Death Corps leader would depart for Orbonne in order to retrieve the sacred stone Virgo. Vormav had branded the bishop of the monastery and all those who dwelt within its gray walls as traitors who wished for the downfall of Glabados, the appropriate punishment for them implicit in his charge. Rofel knew the truth, though. After all, he was the one who had suggested that there need not be any survivors to reveal their mission before it would be completed. It was just more convenient that way. No one needed to know of the Second Coming of Saint Ajora...of the Bloody Angel Altima.

Everything was going according to plan, but Rofel knew not to become too cocky. Any number of things could happen before Altima arose to take Ivalice. Immortality was at stake here, although Rofel would have willingly served Vormav without such a promise. He did not crave such simple things, unlike his fellow conspirator Balk. The idea of demolishing the aristocracy that choked Ivalice was nice, but that was it. It was enough to follow Vormav, to assist and be a part of the events that would shape the country irrevocably.

That was power.

He entered the chapel quietly, arching an eyebrow in surprise when he saw that there was another person already inhabiting the room. This person was kneeling a respectable distance away from the tomb, the candlelight reflecting off of the golden armor the figure wore. The green surcoat and dress flowed from head to toe, giving the knight the look of water flowing over a rock, complete with a moat of green. Rofel did not dare to disturb the person, recognizing her as Meliadoul Tingel, Vormav's loyal daughter. They were well acquainted with each other and he respected her, though he did find it a waste to have her as a Zodiac Brave when she could not even obtain the blessing from the demon that dwelt within the Sagittarius stone. However, her zealous nature and skill with the sword were at least admirable.

"Oh, holy saint, He who seeks to bring us to the glory of God," he heard her speak resolutely, a trait of hers even while in prayer, "help me understand those who would hide their faces from the light of Your wisdom, so that I could bring them to You and save them from their wicked nature."

"They cannot be saved," Rofel murmured, watching as she stiffened at his voice.

"What a sad thing, if it is true," she replied before standing up, not turning her head to acknowledge him. "Why would they resist God's will?"

"I don't really know," he answered truthfully, "I suppose they are simply unable to see Saint Ajora as we see him, the nurturing water that soothes and replenishes the earth we call humanity. Our faith is constantly nourishing, always fulfilling, but those who cannot even reach out to sip of His love probably decide that the thick taste of sin is more fulfilling."

"Maybe more fattening, by the sound of it," Meliadoul muttered. "I suppose it's like the case of that boy, Ramza Beoulve. One of those decadent nobles...his name gives him everything he could possibly need, and yet he slaughters Cardinal Draclau. I just can't fathom why...I almost want to find him just to ask him why he would just hurl himself into the devil's embrace." From his position behind her, Rofel watched her bring her arms up to her front, holding herself loosely.

He stepped forward until he was beside her, intrigued by her odd words. She did not often need her curiosity satisfied, nor did she care very much about the theological issues surrounding heretics. She was a good soldier. "Sinners wallow in the culmination of their sins. They would rather let their evil continue unabated than to stand up and repent. They are too weak to act differently," he glanced at her, though much of her face was covered by the hood of her surcoat. "Our way is not that of the weak."

"...Pathetic," she sighed. "But all the same, I cannot help but pity them."

"A commendable act, to be sure, but ultimately a waste of effort."

"I know." Shaking her head, Meliadoul turned to look at her superior, regarding him with the serious expression she usually wore out of her brother's presence. "It just saddens me to know that we have to share Ivalice with such wicked creatures. I only wish I could set them on the right path instead of having the divine saint deal with such a responsibility."

"Yes," Rofel agreed. "Saint Ajora should not have to deal with such a gross mistake on our part. Your father has decreed there will be a Purge, so that Saint Ajora may grace our land without seeing a single speck of unholiness."

"Starting with Orbonne, correct?"

"Yes." He glanced at her face and frowned. As shadowed as it was, he had been able to notice something of doubt thinning her pale lips. "Do you disagree with your father's decision?"

There was surprise upon Meliadoul's face as she stared at Rofel. "Not at all. My father knows what is best for us, of course. It is just..." she looked away, casting a glance at the coffin before them, "I wish I were the one to lead the expedition, not Izlude."

"Ah," Rofel nodded. "But you should be happy to see your brother elevated to such a stance. Or...do you find him to be incompetent for this job?"

Righteous fury flared in her eyes as she glared at him. "Excuse me, Sir Rofel, but you should watch your words. You may be above me in rank, but I won't tolerate _anyone_ speaking ill about my brother."

He looked at her for a moment before nodding once. "My apologies. I meant no disrespect." After a wary look she nodded back, and he continued with, "You are worried, though."

"...Naturally."

"Even if it's what your father decided?"

She brought her hand up to her forehead, tugging downward at her hood as if it were a strand of hair. After a minute, she crossed her arms and exhaled slowly through her nose. "It's a silly thing," she finally said, keeping her eyes forward, "Izlude is more than old enough to receive command, I know. However, I just...dislike it. If Orbonne has turned away from us, then who knows what they might have hidden to deal with a response from us. And Wiegraf is his second...but with his experience on actual battlefields, would he not be a better commander for such an unpredictable mission?"

Rofel said nothing at first, impressed by her reasoning. Of course he knew that there was no danger at Orbonne, not unless one was intimidated by priests wielding gnarled oaken staffs and cure spells. There were worst dangers to be found on the way there, and wayward spirits could never become a challenge to Murond-trained troops. But she didn't know that, and so her analysis could not be discounted so easily. "A man can only learn to swim in water," he finally replied, "your brother must be tested. As for Wiegraf, he is still an unknown quality."

"Unknown enough to receive a holy stone?" Meliadoul asked incredulously. Rofel's expression hardened at the question.

"Do you distrust your father's will?"

"No, I don't!" she protested, her voice echoing in the room. She clenched her fists at her sides, an action that Rofel interpreted to mean that she was attempting to calm down. "I could not question my father, you know this."

"You have always been devoted," he said lightly. _Only second to myself_, he did not finish. Instead he added, "That's why your father wants you at the forefront of the Purge, for you are one of his most trusted Zodiac Braves."

"I would complete the Purge by myself if it meant that Izlude would not have to start it."

Rofel looked at her then, surprised more by the lack of emotion in her voice than the statement she had just uttered. Her poise was that of complete strength, her eyes towards all that remained of Saint Ajora. In her bearing there was a hint of Vormav's influence, sturdy and unflinching even from the weight of her words. "Those nobles, those wicked, wretched sinners," she spat, "dirtying God's promised land, enjoying the fruits of their corruption. Sickening." She glanced over at Rofel, a real anger dancing in her eyes. "My brother should not have to touch such filth, even with the blade of his sword."

The man only smiled at her impassioned words. "And here I thought you felt sorry for them."

"It shouldn't have to come down to this. If they could only bring themselves to seek God's forgiveness, there would be no need for a purge or revolution," she shook her head, uncrossing her arms and letting them rest at her sides, muttering, "But their blatant ignorance is unforgivable. It all...just bothers me." She shook her head once more before turning away from the gilded coffin. "After they depart for Orbonne, I am to leave for Bervenia, to assist with training. That should keep my mind off...sorry. Good night, Sir Rofel."

"Good night, Meliadoul," he murmured, watching her leave the chapel before turning his attention inward, to his plans for the future. Her words stayed with him, even as he thought of the escalating skirmishes between the Hokuten and Nanten.

--_I would complete the Purge by myself if it meant that Izlude would not have to start it_--

_Ah_, he thought with a tinge of sadness, _such ambition, such a pure, devoted warrior._

_That she cannot be harvested for a Lucavi...what a waste..._

-_Capricorn_ fades into _Aquarius_...-

First of all, I hope everyone will have a merry Christmas!

Capricorn is probably one of the easiest to link to the characters under its sign, apart from Pisces. This is because Capricorn is the sign of steadfast ambition, hard work and loyalty. Just look at Meliadoul, a twenty-three-year-old female Divine Knight who can also bear crossbows and spears. That's a little excessive. In fact, both Meliadoul and Rofel are Divine Knights, which appears to be one of the top knights in the Shrine Knight hierarchy. And, although Divine Knights, like many other elite knights, are a physically-oriented class, cutscene-Rofel seems to be packing quite the magical punch--not to talk of manipulating Dycedarg himself. Capricornians tend to be serious, something that can be seen in the dress of these two--they're the only two Shrine Knights with hoods pulled up over their heads, giving them more of a serious, disciplined image. Capricorn, like the other earth signs, tends to be concerned with the family, something I'm sure we've all noticed.

I hear that Ramza is actually a Capricorn in the Japanese version of FFT. This is because the Japanese FFT uses the zodiac as its calendar, and choosing a birthdate for Ramza starts on Capricorn 10, which corresponds to our January 1st. I have also heard that, in the American FFT, if you use a Gameshark you can play around with some sort of battle system and set up variable zodiacs. Setting Ramza on unvariable zodiac will make him a Capricorn. It's all well and good, but I've always thought that Ramza was beyond the zodiac; the soul of a true hero goes beyond the pretty accident of when they were born.

Capricorn is the cardinal earth sign, embodying ambition and devotion by using all their skills in order to achieve their goals. Its opposite sign is Cancer. Something I found very amusing: Meliadoul and Agrias have worst compatibility with each other, which makes a lot of sense with their values and beliefs in-game.

Other Capricorn: Rad, the squire generic with magic.

-The Capricorn zodiac stone's demon is Adramelech or Adrammelech, not Adramelk. It's bad enough that Christian theology turned this god into a demon, but come on...

Reviewers!

Geez, TobyKikami, what are you talking about? Queklain's the sexiest of all the Scorpios! I mean, how can you look at that morbidly obese, corpulent hunk of lard and not be awed by his sexxxy jiggling?  
...  
I think my dignity just committed seppuku.  
If I didn't write about Balk, then the whole chapter would've been about Delita. I don't like Delita. At least Balk has that whole background about being a machinist to interest me; Delita's story is just too laid out in the game for me to really care.

Hey Luna. College can be worth it, until you think about how Bill Gates dropped out and is now one of the richest men in the world. But it is fun, and the freedom is really great. I guess it depends on what you're majoring in and what you expect out of college.  
The repetition with the arrows was pretty much the only thing I really liked about Sagittarius other than the short part about Teta's death; I stressed over the story too much to get truly inspired.

Hello, Hawk of Death. I really didn't want to use Delita, but I knew I had to because I couldn't really use anyone else. Ooo, Zalmo, exciting. Maybe I should've used Lede. Oh well.  
Balk is really annoying in both of his fights. Bed Desert sucks because of the gun and poison, Sacred Precincts sucks because of the gun and the hyudra-hydra-tiamat and chemist. Bah, that's not fun to play, even on a Reis-only challenge.

Ah, I remember you, Trueborn Chaos. You had a really interesting review in Libra, I really liked it. Sorry that Ramza can't really fit as a Taurus. I'm glad you're impressed, but...you mind letting me know what you're impressed by?

You're really weird, The Burning Misery. I mean, I think I managed to make _Sagittarius_ into a workable story, but I'm stunned that anyone could call it one of their favorites. Though, I do like the 'Teta's death' part of the story, because it was so easy to write. But, uh, thank you for liking the part, it's...nice to hear.  
Balk is the guy who poisons the Hokuten in Chapter 4. Besrodio is Mustadio's father.  
My challenge fights were always something like, 'Use only Reis in so-and-so battle!' It wasn't very fun in the last battle, though, because Altima has crappy AI. Calculators themselves aren't cheap, because their stats suck and blow simultaneously, so I can see a challenge in that. But come on, 'Orlandu' and 'challenge' don't belong in the same sentence.  
I usually only update on Tuesday nights. I like to think that there's someone out there who looks forward to my stories, therefore I try to provide a stable schedule. Maybe it brightens someone's day, I don't know...


	11. Aquarius

'Aquarians are an enigma. On one hand they are warm, kind and outgoing, the sort to make friends easily and willingly. On the other hand they are quite aloof people, who do not actively seek out relationships, and resent any infringement on their time or resources.'

Zodiac Signal

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**XI. The Water-Bearer, Aquarius  
**

I like going to school.

It's a privilege for me. After all, I'm a commoner. I know how lucky I am to be attending school, not to talk of an academy for aristocrats. I learned how to read and write and a bit of arithmetic from my parents before...but I hadn't realized there was so much to study until I arrived at the academy. Though the academy mainly teaches noblewomen how to properly behave, they also teach more intellectual things like advanced vocabulary, proper mathematics and history. Alma says that we learn these things so that we won't bore men during parties and the like, yet we're not taught so much that we could potentially embarrass a prospective husband by knowing more than he...but it is something of a start. It's more than I ever thought I would learn in my life.

Alma says that I look almost hungry for knowledge, by the way I tear through each new textbook. I don't think I'm that bad, and I do think--just a little!--that she takes all this information for granted. Even though she's a woman, her rank allows her some freedom in this area. As for myself, I was lucky enough that the late Sir Beoulve allowed me this opportunity, even going as far as to send a letter to the headmaster of the school to inform him of my desire and, most importantly, my ability to learn. I was so happy at the news that I toppled over my poor brother; how he scolded me over my 'unladylike antics' afterward!

I really love learning, and I like the school itself. However...

"Oh, look, it's Tita."

I'm a commoner, and I know that the nobles aren't obligated to be nice to me. That's fine. But most of the girls who go to this school really dislike me, and a lot of them don't hold back. Alma really worries about me, but it's alright. I won't squander this chance to...I don't know...just to learn. So I always keep my head down and hurry away as quickly as possible.

"Ignoring us? I don't think so." One girl grabs me by my upper arm. I try to pull away, but right when I free my arm another girl trips me and I go crashing down onto the hard stone floor. When I try to stand up, using my arms as leverage, someone kicks one of my arms and I fall back down. They laugh when I cry out, just like always.

"Aww, little Tita can't get up."

"She probably likes it there, rolling around on the ground like a porky."

"Hey, get over here and lick my boots clean. I just had riding practice and those stupid chocobos--"

"Leave her alone!"

That's the warning cry of Alma. I hear it a lot. Maybe these girls hear it a lot too; I've never looked up at my attackers. They run away, and I feel hands on my shoulders. I look up at Alma, who is staring at me with such concern. I feel bad. I can't do anything but worry her. "Teta, are you okay?" she asks quietly. "They didn't bruise you, did they?"

I shake my head. My knees and hands hurt, but I've gotten a lot of practice in how to fall properly. "I'm sorry, Alma," I whisper. I really am.

"Oh, it's not your fault, not one bit! Those stupid..." She helps me up, then starts dusting off my dress like it's the most normal thing in the world for someone of her rank to do. "I think I recognize one of them," she continues, "let's report her to the dean!"

Looking away, I sigh. "He's not going to care," I start patiently, "just like last time. Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

"How can you say that?!" she very nearly screams, grasping my shoulders and shaking me lightly a few times. "At least it's something, right? You can't keep taking this. Come on, let's try again."

"I'm sorry." There's no use...even if the dean acted, the other girls would just be that much crueler to me. I don't think I could stand it if I saw Alma in even more pain than right now.

She doesn't say anything for a long moment, taking that time to stare at me strangely. Finally she looks away, a sad look on her face. "Teta, you're always so calm. I don't know if I could ever be that strong."

I smile, taking her hands off of my shoulders and holding them tightly. "You're such a thoughtful friend."

No, I don't think I am strong. I'm just surviving, just like in those days when Mother and Father were sick and Delita and I could only depend on each other. Those days before Sir Beoulve took pity on us and brought us to his large manor and told us that we could call it home.

Other than the surroundings, nothing has really changed.

-----------

I want the bullying to stop so much, but what can I do?

--_Stop pretending you're one of us! Why don't you go back to the gutter you crawled out of!_--

Alma says that I should fight back. At least do something, she's pleaded with me, they'll be intimidated if I just did something other than ignore them. Show them that I'm a red panther with claws. She thinks that if I did something other than submit to their abuse, they'll go away.

--_Haha, look at that little commoner trying to learn! Isn't that just so cute? Why don't you show us some more tricks?_--

I really like Alma, but I don't think she understands. I'm not her, not in personality, not in rank. If I fought back, they'll report me to the dean immediately. He'll side with them, and they'd force me to leave this school. If I become the 'uppity little commoner', there's no way the elder Beoulve brothers will support me. And then, what about Delita? He's trying his very hardest to become a knight so that we won't have to depend on the Beoulve family's charity. If I get kicked out of school, he'll be so disappointed with me. So, I have to take it.

--_Looking at you just makes me sick_--

I know my place.

--_Get out of here. You're just a stupid little commoner. You think you have the right to be here?_--

This chance is a blessing. I'm not going to squander it by fighting people who don't matter.

-----------

Alma and I enter the class, one of the last before the end of the fall term in December. We're supposed to go back to Igros for the break before the spring term in April. The school affords long breaks because there really isn't that much to the curriculum. Other than what I'm interested in, the other subjects seem to be different ways to seduce a noble of high rank through beauty and charm.

"I can't wait to go back to Igros," Alma murmurs. If she talks too loudly, all the other students start acting as if she'd asked them for their opinion. They won't even let me have the pleasure of her company.

"Mm."

She glances at me, a pleading look on her face. "Teta..."

I shake my head. We don't talk often in public; the noble girls really dislike that Alma is nice to me. A Beoulve and a commoner...it'd be tragic, if one of us were male.

We sit at our seats and wait for the professor to arrive. After going through our requisite drills and the lesson--a study on mathematical procedures, advanced level--the professor stops the class. "Now, I must admit to being surprised at your exams. While a number of you did quite well, I'm proud to say that Miss Teta Hyral has achieved the highest grade of the class." She smiles at me, and it reminds me of Mother's smile.

I smile back.

----------

"Aaah!"

I was left alone in the days after the professor's announcement. Was I foolish to think that...maybe I had freed myself? I didn't think I had won, of course, but...

I glance up at the girls who ambushed me. Five of them, identical with their beautiful dresses and cruel eyes. One of them has an empty bucket. The northern wind blows, and with my drenched clothes I'm chilled through.

I've never looked up before. Are these noblewomen really so ugly?

"Oh, Tita dear, I saw all this dirt on you and I thought I'd help you clean off," the girl with the bucket titters, "guess it'll take more than that to clean off a commoner."

It's the same insults, over and over again. Alma's busy with packing. I don't know how to get out of this...

"By the Holy Saint, look at her. She's like a soulless little doll."

"No wonder Alma likes playing with her." This girl walks up to me. "Hey, I bet you didn't even realize it. Your dear little 'friend' just likes using you as entertainment."

"Heh. You can't possibly think that she really wanted to be _your_ friend."

I stand up. All their voices sound the same as they caw out their little remarks, but I won't just lie there while they insult my friendship with Alma. Even if they're nobles, even if I'm below them in rank...I won't take that! I don't like fighting, but I can't just look down and hope for the best. Not after _that_.

One of them pushes me, though it's not hard enough to make me fall. "What's this? Do you honestly think you can just stand up and leave when you want to? We're not through with you, not until you learn your place."

"Do you think you're better than us?"

I look this one in the eye. My mouth's moving, and my mind doesn't want to stop it. I've always had a soft voice, but my next word sound so loud that maybe Delita heard me in Gariland.

"Yes."

-----------

Alma and I sit on the academy steps, clutching our bags as we wait. Sir Zalbag himself is picking us up today, even though he's a busy commander and the Death Corps are still active. But Alma said that he wanted to do this, so maybe the Death Corps aren't really that bad.

Stifling a yawn behind one hand, she looks over at me. "Teta, I'm sorry I suggested that you attend school with me."

But I'm not sorry. "But I like school. I can't wait for the next term."

"But...all those girls...I wish I could've done more to protect you."

"Thank you," I smile at her, adding, "you're really sweet."

"What?" Alma looks stunned at my words. She pulls her ponytail over one shoulder, methodically running her fingers through it in what I know to be something she does when she's nervous. "Not as much as you are. I would've understood if you at least acted like you hated them." Glancing at me, she frowns slightly. "I really hated them. But you don't, do you?"

I laugh, uneasily. I never thought they were worth hating. "There's no point in it. I came here to learn. If I had wanted to fight, I would've joined Delita."

"You really like learning, don't you?"

Looking down, I smooth out the wrinkles in my dress. How do I explain it to her? She knows exactly who she is: Alma Beoulve, the youngest sibling and only woman of the noble knight family. I'm just a commoner with...a chance. And I want to take that chance so badly...

With education, maybe I can find out who I really am, and what I do for others.

"Yes, I like learning."

Alma looks thoughtful when I turn to her. "You know," she starts, something glinting in her eyes that makes me...uncomfortable, "Lesalia has this incredible university, and it's actually for learning, not just to mold noblewomen. Maybe if you went there, something good will come out of it."

'University'? That sounds grand. "It doesn't sound like the kind of place that would take in someone of low rank..."

"I'm going to talk to Zalbag," she says in a confident tone, "and once I convince him, he'll go talk to Dycedarg and convince _him_. And then..." she grins, tossing back her ponytail and clasping her hands in front of her, "you'll get to go! Can you imagine how proud everyone will be? Teta Hyral, future scholar!"

Is that possible? "It sounds kind of simple," I murmur, and she pouts at me.

"But you already have what it takes! You're my friend, and I'm going to help you to the end!"

I sigh. There's no stopping her once she has a plan. "Alright, but don't say anything to anyone until it's confirmed with Sir Dycedarg."

She nods, a wide smile on her face before she turns and grasps my arm. "Look, the carriage is here!"

The carriage is indeed here, drawn by a yellow chocobo. Before Alma has the chance to grab her things and run off, I touch her softly on the shoulder and say, "Alma, please don't tell my brother about...the things that happened to me here. I don't want him to worry, not when he's about to achieve his dream of becoming a knight."

She looks at me in a funny way before nodding. "Sure, I won't tell Delita. Well, let's go!"

They never stopped trying to hurt me, but I think those noble girls are getting tired of being mean to me. I wonder if the students at Lesalia will be mean...but I don't think it really matters. I can keep surviving, no matter what.

I can't wait to see the look on Delita's face when I tell him that I'll be going to a university!

-_Aquarius_ fades into _Pisces_...-

I complained up and down about the quality of _Sagittarius_. After searching my _soul_ for something, anything to write about _Aquarius_, I've now realized how lucky I was before. What can I say about the Aquarians Teta and Cloud, especially when Teta only partakes in conversation in one cutscene before getting kidnapped, and since I've never played FFVII? I have read enough about Cloud to understand that his being switched from a Leo in VII to an Aquarius in Tactics is no mere accident. While I'm pretty sure he's not at the genius level of intelligence the sign suggests of its members, I do know he's eccentric (well, that's a way to put it) and what I've read suggests that he fits the beginning quote well enough.

Teta, however...well, we are given a few facts about her: She goes to the same academy as Alma, she gets picked on a lot (enough for Alma to tell Ramza, at least), and she doesn't like worrying Delita over her problems. That would mean that she's intelligent enough to handle the course material, despite the limitations her status would've placed onto her before she was taken in by the Beoulves. The other two suggest the problems of status that the game so likes to delve into, as well as her own method of handling things. Perhaps that quote for this part helps here as well?

One final thing I've picked up is that Aquarians have the potential to be more unsure of their true identity than most other sun signs. That would make perfect sense for Cloud from what I've read, but this can also hint at Teta's inner struggle as a commoner supported by a noble family. Hence, the whole 'being picked on at school' comment would strengthen this idea of being unsure of her own social status.

Aquarius is the fixed air sign of the zodiac, which apparently means that even the most original or strange ideas will become fixed, or steady, once formed. Its opposite sign is Leo, which means Teta and Alma have worst compatibility with each other. Geez.

-I have a new one-shot out, called _Ragnarök_. If you'd like to read it, I won't stop you.

-For all the people who wondered who the hell Rofel was, he's the guy who gives the Capricorn stone to Dycedarg. He also opens the gate to Murond Death City, and destroys the gate back before he dies.

Reviewers!

Hi, TobyKikami! I know that American FFT has the birthday selector on January 1st, but unlike the Japanese version supposedly starting in Capricorn 10 when the zodiac calender starts on Aries 1, January 1st happens to be our new year. No one would really see that as out of place, I'd think.  
I'm also glad that you liked _Ragnarök_, though I was worried if it would be at the same quality of _Gemini_. Yours was the first fic that I've ever been inspired to write a meta-fic for, not to talk of the fact that _Zodiac Signal_ might not have existed if it weren't for _Gemini_. You gotta have a little more pride for your work!

Yo, The Burning Misery. I should have more self-restraint, but...I know that the Calculator has an excellent skillset, I'm saying that it's a crappy class.You can put the Math skillset on any other class and it'd still work--in fact, it usually works better than it does on the Calculator itself. It's exactly like the Samurai class and its Draw Out skillset, where the skillset has everything from healing to attacks, but the class doesn't have the MA to adequately support the skillset.  
Anyway, I'm glad you liked Capricorn. Meliadoul happens to be one of my favorite characters because of the force of personality that she has in the few times she says something. Yes, you do fight Vormav in a sense, along with Rofel and Kletian, in the 'hall of St. Murond' battle. But when you see him again in the Graveyard of Airships, he turns into Hashmalum and you have to fight that instead.

Hey, Luna. Sibling love is at an extreme in this game. I played the game the other day and watched the scene where Ramza hands over the Germonik Scriptures to Vormav and company just to see Alma...even though he's been betrayed and lied to so many times already. I'm not sure if that's love or stupidity, though...  
I don't know, but...my senior year (well, semester) was insanely easy. But ew, speeches. Good luck with that.

Hello, Hawk of Death. I'm not so sure if Meliadoul is charismatic...Rofel might be, though. I don't think it would've been possible for Meliadoul to contract with a Lucavi, just like Izlude, probably because they haven't really faced the evils of war and such personally. I'm still working out the kinks to my 'Lucavi Host Theory'. And you're right, the 'one man's trash is another's treasure' is the perfect analogy.  
I'm glad you liked _Ragnarök_, by the way. I didn't think you were waiting so impatiently for it, though.

Uh, bye Evil Mina! I'm just a lurker at the FFT board, there's just so much useful information over there...though a little less these days.  
Heh...I've been told about my slow pacing before. That's just how it is.

TruebornChaos, you've been reading my stories for that long? Well, it's nice to meet you now, that's for sure.  
I like Meliadoul, she just impresses me. She's not as high up on my favorite character list like Reis and Izlude, but she's definitely there. And, I'm so glad you noticed that the chapel in _Capricorn_ comes from the Zalbag boss battle! I thought I had fought through all the St. Murond battles just to examine that one room for nothing...  
I don't remember having problems with Velius, but at least I remember it. However, I don't remember Adrammelech at all, because of how insanely easy that battle is. But the Sacred Precincts battle...it's really the worst one for me.  
You know, every time someone announced that they were looking forward to a particular zodiac story, I've always felt that I've let them down. Hopefully you won't feel the same.


	12. Pisces

'Pisces adapts to their surroundings, good or bad. They have an uncanny sense of perceiving what a person is in need of, and delivering it. They are not initiators, but rather allow circumstances and events to motivate them, and then they respond.'

Zodiac Signal

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**XII. The Fish, Pisces**

Rafa Galthana was wide awake in her bed. Blankets as white and fluffy as fallen snow were piled on top of her small body, burying her in their warmth.

She was cold.

Riovanes Castle was alive at night, sentient in ways humans could easily pick up on if they stopped for a moment during their daily hustle. Every creak, every moan told its own story, whether it be about neglect and ill treatment or gentle devotion. She could hear them all, interpreting the sounds with an ease expected from someone as well trained as herself. After all, she was skilled in the arts of murder, of magic, of life. A creaking door was nothing for her.

But no matter how much one thought they knew about life, there was always someone willing to teach them how little they truly knew.

There were different creaks now, caused by the weight of a human. Under the pile of blankets Rafa shivered, closing her eyes with a brutal finality. Her small hands curled into tight fists by her sides, knowing how inefficient they had been the first time. She cringed as she heard the doorknob turning, a prolonged squeak like the death cry of a rat vibrating in her ears. In her mind she chanted a spell: _No not again please not again--_

It hadn't worked the first time.

She could hear his footsteps as he entered her room, slow and ponderous. It was no surprise to her, as his feet supported a nearly suffocating weight. In the days that had passed that first night, she had wished she had suffocated, had died. But then, what would've become of Malak?

"Are you cold, daughter?"

She heard him ask this and she nearly laughed and cried in revulsion. How could he call her that after what he'd done to her? How could he _dare_-- But the rage shriveled away, only to be replaced with fear as he began to peel off each blanket hiding her body in an almost loving manner. He could dare, he was one of the most powerful men in Ivalice.

Layer after layer was stripped from her until there were only thin white bedclothes left as a last, desperate shield, and the only thing she could do was swear that she would never go through what was about to happen ever again.

-----------

Under the moonlight, Rafa flung herself up from the bedroll, panting as she desperately fought to control a sudden bout of nausea. With trembling hands she pushed back the crimson band that held her hood in place, running her fingers through her dark hair. It was a ritual, one she always employed after the nightmares. While it never worked as much as she wanted it to, lately there had been something soothing in waking: the realization that she and Malak were free, and that Barinten was dead.

There was a soft groan from the bedroll beside hers, and a small smile touched her eyes when she looked over and saw her brother. He was sleeping fitfully as always, his blanket haphazardly twisted around his body. This was a common scene when she looked around the small campsite; Ramza had decided against buying new tents after the last ones had been destroyed in a windstorm at Zeklaus Desert, and it hadn't helped that no one wanted to lug around any new ones after they were forced to eat their last chocobo. All the members of Ramza's troop had their bedrolls set up in a circle around the fire, and although some people had grumbled Rafa secretly liked the new arrangement. She liked seeing that she wasn't alone.

She sighed, knowing that it would be a while before she could force herself to go back to sleep. Keeping first watch was Meliadoul, who was sitting by the fire, her back to Rafa. The younger girl decided not to talk to her; while she could tell the female knight had no quarrel with her, she knew that Meliadoul despised Malak. Rafa had no clue why, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know either. She looked away from the Divine Knight, her gaze traveling over the sleeping bodies of her companions.

And almost instantly her gaze locked with another's.

Rafa did not dislike anyone easily. Mustadio had once joked that she was like a female Ramza, though she had adamantly denied it. She felt that she wasn't anywhere near the level of kindness and moral character of that young man. The only person she had ever hated was Barinten, and he had taken her hometown, the lives of her family, her innocence and her brother's loyalty before a black rage had pulsed within her to make him pay for his crimes.

She generally liked everyone. However, the woman named Reis Dular made her very uncomfortable.

That woman was staring at Rafa now, long blond hair loose and falling over her shoulders. So wild even in that aspect, when the other women of the group bound or hid their hair. There was a lazy sensuality about the woman who was once enchanted as a dragon, something unspoken lingering about her bare shoulders and steady gazes. Despite the delicate features of the woman's wholly human face, there was a blandness to her eyes that had stayed after her dragon form had been dispelled, a cold intelligence lurking within those eyes that scared the girl who had known her as a monster first. And that was what the woman called Reis truly was in the end despite her seductive humanness, wasn't she? A dangerous monster, made all the more worse with the beautiful guise she wore.

But Rafa could see something else in Reis' eyes now, highlighted by the campfire: a curious light of concern. Unnerved by this sudden display of human empathy, the girl looked away, lying back down in an attempt to escape that gaze. Not a minute passed by before she heard footsteps approaching, and she froze as the memory rose up from the pit of her stomach.

No. It was different now. He was _dead_.

"Miss Rafa?" The voice was velveteen, a siren's song in a whisper. "Are you alright?"

Rafa felt odd as she raised her head and looked straight at Reis' face. The firelight played over the dragoner's features, highlighting her humanity. It comforted the girl even as she wondered what lay behind that mask. "I...I'm fine, Miss Dular," she whispered, "you don't have to worry about me."

No, not anymore. Nobody was going to hurt her anymore.

She saw the woman doubt, lips pressed into a thin line. Then Reis smiled. "I want to take a walk, but I don't think Miss Meliadoul will let me go out there alone. Would you like to come with me?"

The first answer, the one that nearly burst out in a horrified tone, was NO! Traipsing about the darkness with someone who still clung to the monster's ways scared her. But as she studied the face in front of her, something calmed down inside of her. It would be alright, wouldn't it? Whatever Reis was, the woman was still her teammate. And sleep would not be forthcoming for a while anyway...

Rafa nodded weakly. "Let me just get my shoes on." The woman nodded and walked away, heading towards the Divine Knight. There was something of envy in the girl as Reis did the very thing she couldn't, talking to Meliadoul next to the warmth of the fire. Rafa turned away and tugged her shoes on before standing, stretching out the kinks in her body before taking one last look at her friends. She noticed the Temple Knight-turned-hunter sleeping heavily, one side of his bedroll gleaming empty past the flames, and realized that it was more than a little odd that Reis had wanted to walk with her.

Presently, the woman left Meliadoul's side and walked up to Rafa. "Shall we go?" she asked, and Rafa nodded. They walked out, towards the river that was Bariaus Valley's sole landmark.

It was quiet as they walked. Rafa had become too used to the chatter and battle cries of the group she traveled with to become comfortable with the dark stillness that surrounded them. Motivated by this singular need to fill the void, she attempted to converse with the normally reserved woman. "S-so, why did you want to take a walk at this time of the night?" she asked, turning to Reis while attempting a smile.

"I feel something out here...a kindred spirit." The woman's tone was low, despite the distance they had walked away from their camp, and its haunting inflection unnerved Rafa.

"Oh," the girl murmured, unsure of how to respond to that interesting claim. "Why didn't you ask Sir Beowulf to accompany you?"

"Well, you were awake." Reis' voice was now softer instead of just low, tempered by a creeping affection. "Besides, he has the next watch. He needs his rest."

"Ah." The consideration Reis had for her lover appealed to Rafa. "What were you doing awake, Miss Reis?"

Reis ran her fingers through one of the locks of hair that dangled beside her face, almost looking nervous to the former Kamyuja assassin's observant eyes. "I'm used to going to sleep later whenever we're in a town."

"Oh," Rafa murmured, thinking about how a monster would naturally be more comfortable outside of the walls humans erected. "The atmosphere is really different from the country."

She caught the odd glance the woman threw at her. "Yes, naturally," Reis said, Rafa's well-trained ears picking up a timbre of confusion along the words. "Oh, here's the river."

During the day the river was the image of tranquility, cerulean-blue and barely moving in the mild, sunny days the Lionel region was treasured for. At night, however, the water was dark and foreboding, an inky hue that promised something sinister lurking beneath its depths. Rafa looked to Reis, hoping that this was the end of their journey. Her glance went unnoticed as the woman walked downstream, towards the tall island that was separated from their part of the valley by the water. Confused, Rafa followed Reis, calling out to her in a loud voice lest her words be obscured by the night, "Miss Reis? Where are you going?"

Reis pointed to the island. "I'd like to go to that place. The presence is there."

"But how would we cross the river?" Rafa protested, suddenly feeling like she was the only one with common sense. She wasn't going to dip her feet into that night-stained water, not for some 'presence' that she couldn't even feel.

"Hm...well, let me try this." The dragoner walked up to the shore and rolled up the sleeve of her right arm, kneeling down and plunking her arm into the water nonchalantly. She bent low, over the water's surface, and Rafa was close enough that she could see the woman pucker up her lips. There was a silvery-blue translucence drifting out of her mouth, a strange crackling sound the only noticeable effect from Reis' actions. Pulling her arm out of the water with a small cracking sound, the dragoner continued blowing into the water for a minute longer before stopping. "There," she said before turning her head to the side and coughing.

Rafa peered over the shore and saw, with the help of the moonlight, a glittery bridge leading to the island. "You froze a path?" she exclaimed, amazed at the idea. "I didn't even think that you could do that with your...powers."

"I needed to use my fingers to guide a path, or else I might have had to freeze the whole lake," Reis said, looking pleased with herself. This bit of self-indulgence was uncommon from the woman, and that human spark charmed the Heaven Knight.

Rafa smiled. "Why didn't you?"

"...This is the only place where the monsters can drink," the dragoner stated shortly, stepping onto the ice bridge. Knowing that she had said something that had offended the woman, Rafa followed without a word. However, while Reis seemed comfortable with the path, Rafa's shoes couldn't hold to the ice very well, forcing her to cross inch by laborious inch.

_Don't think of falling in_, she chanted to herself,_ just a bit more..._

"Do you need help?" Reis called, already at the end of the path. She held out a hand, but Rafa timidly shook her head. The woman did seem to be nice enough, but Rafa just couldn't force herself to trust so easily.

No, not after last time.

Reis' face was calm when Rafa looked past the outstretched limb, though her eyes were ringed with shadows. "I should tell you now that we're going to meet a draconic creature."

"...What?" Rafa could only manage out, her mind stumbling upon itself with her fears, with the knowledge that even the kindest faces can be mere masks for an evil beyond comprehension...

"Above us," the dragoner explained kindly, lowering her hand. "It's just a bit farther."

Rafa certainly didn't want to meet a dragon, but she could sense Reis' happiness and felt...as if she couldn't disappoint the woman. She made her way to the end of the icy path, and they quickly climbed the bluff, although Reis' skirts hindered the dragoner's progress.

There was a tiamat waiting for them when they reached the top of the island. It was ivory-white and as huge as one of Goland's infamous snowdrifts, its three heads peering at them curiously. Reis stepped forward, looking as calm as ever. "Hello there. We've met before," she started, cocking her head slightly to the left as the tiamat grunted something. "Yes, I was that dragon."

Rafa lowered her head as she watched Reis and the tiamat converse, feeling lost. It was like she was on the battlefield, unable to do anything more than to watch Ramza and the others demolish the opposition. It was like Malak not listening to her, telling her that she was lying, that their _father_ would never do anything to harm them. It was like that cold night, burrowed underneath blankets and waiting for the creaking footsteps.

Unwanted. Alone. Lost. Always...

"Miss Rafa?"

Startled out of her thoughts, the girl looked up into Reis' questioning gaze. "Yes, what?" she asked, wanting nothing more than to leave.

"Well...the tiamat asked us for a favor," Reis answered, leading the girl toward the giant monster, "it would like us to scratch it behind the ears."

"It has ears?" Rafa asked, stunned and her earlier thoughts forgotten. The tiamat growled, sounding almost haughty.

"That's not nice," Reis told the monster before turning her attention back to the Heavenly Knight. "Just behind the spikes. You take the head on the left, and I'll take the one on the right." The tiamat grumbled, and the dragoner sounded almost exasperated as she walked over to the head on the right and said, "As you can see, we don't have three people. You're supposed to be a proud dragon, so please don't whine."

Rafa, with all the strange things she had seen in her young life, thought that there was nothing weirder than watching a woman talk down to a fearsome monster. She did as she was told to do, cautiously approaching the tiamat head she was assigned to and timidly touching it behind the spikes. It seemed to like that, lowering its head to give her better access. "Wow, I never imagined it would be so...tame," she whispered.

"Monsters are generally afraid of humans. They only fight because they want to protect their land," Reis said quietly, tending to her own tiamat head, "they tend to see humans as dangerous creatures."

The memories came back, exploding within Rafa's mind with such force that her eyes filled with tears. "Maybe we are."

"Maybe. But there are also good people, aren't there?"

"O-oh, yes," she tried to regain her composure, "like Ramza."

"Yes, Ramza's very kind." A pause, and then, "Your brother is kind too, isn't he?"

Rafa laughed; it was the first time she had ever heard anyone other than herself claim such a thing. "Well, he's a bit gruff around people he doesn't know, but he's really very nice." She peeked at the woman through the spikes of the three heads, noting the way Reis scratched the tiamat's head and resolved to try that out. "Sir Beowulf is very friendly," she remarked in turn, "I was surprised...he seemed so silent when he first joined us."

"Beowulf and silence...I can't imagine it," Reis mused, the comment surprising Rafa into a startled little giggle. "But I'm glad he's happy now. His happiness is my happiness."

"Oh..." Rafa blushed, almost embarrassed by the dragoner's declaration. It wasn't so much the words that brought this effect as it was the sweet tone Reis had used. "You must really love him to say that."

"Hm? But, if your brother is happy, aren't you happy as well?"

"Well...I never thought of it that way. That's true."

They kept working, and Rafa began to feel almost happy. The tiamat head she was scratching seemed visibly happy at her ministrations, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, and it seemed ridiculous to be scared of such a creature. It was a fearsome monster and yet it looked cute, all because of a small action on her part. She glanced at Reis, and instead of feeling conflicted between how the woman looked and what she knew of that woman, she felt comfortable.

_How strange_, she thought, _I should've always felt this way._ _Happy, useful, seeing others happy...why isn't it like this more often?_

_Can I always be like this?_

"I'm sorry, but we need to go," she heard Reis say to the tiamat. Reluctantly, Rafa moved away from the monster, feeling a pang of regret at its sad growl. "Miss Rafa? I'm sorry, but I need to get back before Miss Meliadoul wakes Beowulf for his shift."

"I'm here," Rafa said, meeting Reis at the edge of the cliff they had climbed from. She looked up at the woman's face and smiled. "Thank you for this."

Reis inclined her head slightly before moving to climb down the cliff. Surprised at the cold gesture after the way the woman had been acting, Rafa frowned. It was then that she remembered something. It was after the events at Nelveska Temple, when Beowulf was explaining to the group about the events that led up to Reis' transformation. The woman herself was standing beside him, head lowered in what seemed like a submissive gesture, not once interrupting her lover's words. Only once he had faltered in his explanation, while talking of how long it had taken him to look for her. Rafa had noticed how Reis had moved her hand so that her fingers were brushing against his palm. He had entwined their fingers then, a genuine smile on his lips as he continued.

_If she wasn't there before Sir Beowulf awoke, he'd be worried_, Rafa realized. _And how would she feel about that?_

--_Hm? But, if your brother is happy, aren't you happy as well?_--

Closing her eyes, Rafa remembered the dragoner's words. The woman had been right; Rafa had known happiness, but never as strongly as she did whenever she and Malak were together. They were connected, not just through their familial bonds but through their genuine love for each other. It was this love that could cause one sibling to make a choice that was morally wrong, just as long as it benefitted the other. Stay as an assassin to keep one fed and clothed, kill a man to free the other. She had scars and nightmares, but she knew that submitting to their lessons of fear and hatred would mean to leave her brother with only a shell of who she was. She couldn't do that; they were finally united and free to live their lives.

And that was all she had ever wanted.

-_Pisces_ fades into _Aries_...-

I formally apologize to all the Arians, Cancerians, and Scorpios who are wondering why their signs' stories were so short compared to...this. I think I went a little crazy here.

Out of all the signs, I would say that Pisces is the most feminine of them all (and Aries would arguably be the most masculine). Piscean women are said to have a delicate, almost helpless look about them, but in actuality they're very strong on the inside, especially when it comes to the people they love. It's said that Pisceans have the most extreme choice to make when it comes to their lives; they can rise to the top and transcend, or sink and live a life of illusion. It's my humble, unbiased opinion that Reis has transcended at least literally, having blurred the lines between human and monster. Unbiased, _really_. Rafa may or may not be a different case, hence this story.

Let's look at our Pisceans. Yeah, Rafa's not the most useful character battle-wise, but plot-wise she does everything in her power to get her brother away from Barinten's clutches. What's amazing is that she does this even after--or because of--Barinten's involvement in burning down her village, killing her family, turning the siblings into assassins, and, as the game implies, raping her. We don't know much about Reis other than what is revealed in the Brave Story. She worked for the Church, she was Beowulf's fiancé, and she does no less than to sacrifice her humanity to save him from the spell Priest Buremonda casts.

Interestingly enough, both women have intimate run-ins with the zodiac stones, actually using their power to restore life and body respectively. There are only four times in the game where the power of the stones is used for something other than summoning Lucavi, and two of these times involve machines (Worker 8 and the Celestial Globe). I can't help but wonder if this has to do with the Piscean involvement with magic and mystical things--compounded by the fact that they're women and in FFT terms would naturally be more inclined for that sort of thing. And finally, I don't know why people say this after seeing the cutscene 'Reis' curse', but Beowulf didn't use the stone to break the curse, Reis did. He just claimed the stone in one of the oddest assumptions I've ever seen anyone make.

Pisces is the mutable water sign of the zodiac, which translates to easily changing emotions and versatility. Its opposite sign is Virgo. Agrias' tagalong knight Alicia is another Piscean.

Finally, I'd like to thank everyone for reading and reviewing _Zodiac Signal_. I didn't expect it to become this popular, especially considering that astrology is one of those few things that everyone's a cynic about, something I've certainly noticed from the reviews. I'm honored to write for all of you, and I thank all of you for your kind words and willingness to keep reading. I won't be responding to reviews this time around, but if you have any questions or comments I will get back to you.

...Oh, what the hell. There will be a bonus part available next week. Even bulls can be tamed with kind words, I suppose.


	13. Dancing the Cycle

'Heaven is full of the gods to whom we give the name of stars.'

Zodiac Signal

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

**Dancing the Cycle: Heavenly Bodies**

"Let's play a game."

These words drew an odd reaction from the people around the speaker, as they all stared at him with varying measures of confusion. Mustadio Bunanza, who was seated closest to the dancing flames of the campfire, spoke first as he squinted into Worker 8's complicated operating system. "Never thought I'd hear you say that, Beowulf."

Agrias Oaks, who was sitting against a tree near the young machinist, raised an eyebrow as she methodically cleaned her blade. No one dared tell her that the sword was already gleaming mercilessly with the firelight; everyone had their ways of dealing with the anxiety of the upcoming battles. "Yes," she agreed, eyes fixated on the sword, "we would expect it from you."

"Hey, hey. I can be serious," Mustadio retorted in a playful tone, digging deeper into the robot with the help of one of the tools he always carried, "I'm just not all scary-serious like you are."

"Hn."

"Um, anyway," Ramza Beoulve spoke up, the first time he had attempted to do so that night. He was sitting on his bedroll and organizing the supply of healing items, though everyone had been hard pressed to figure out by what rules he was sorting them out with. It could be forgiven; after all, the shadow of Orbonne Monastery seemed to loom over the patch of forest they were camping in. "What game is it, exactly? Someone left the pack of cards in that inn in Limberry." Glares were shot at Mustadio, who blithely ignored them.

Beowulf Kadmus kept his gaze on the star dusted sky above for a moment longer before turning his attention to the leader of the group. He was sitting on his bedroll, directly across the fire from the very focused Agrias. "I thought I could see the constellation Scorpio, and that got me wondering if we could fill the cycle of the zodiac with the people we've come across on this journey."

"...Scorpio?" Reis Dular, who was sitting next to him, wanted to know as she looked up into the sky. Beowulf pointed at a certain group of stars, and she stared at them before shaking her head in confusion. "That's just a clump of stars."

"Not really. See, there's the tail."

"...If you say so."

"That sounds like fun," Meliadoul Tingel murmured while she sat on her bedroll and stretched out limbs that had been encased in armor for most of the day. "It beats sitting around and displaying all our nervous tics," she smiled thinly as Agrias glanced at her with an unreadable expression.

Sitting between Agrias and Meliadoul, Cidolfas Orlandu made an impressive sight even as he sat in a meditative stance, the amber blade of Excalibur gleaming dully across his lap. "It is something to do," he agreed. "So, who would care to start? Miss Rafa?"

Rafa Galthana meekly shook her head, her hair freely moving around her face with the crimson band that held her hood in place sitting on her roll. Malak Galthana was sleeping on the bedroll beside her, and on her other side was the couple of the group. "No, I'm sorry, I don't know any Arians."

"The first chocobo...the one Agrias and I had saved in Araguay a while back...I think it was an Aries," Ramza muttered, trying to figure out if the bottle he held was a potion or a hi-potion. "It was really aggressive, but it was a good chocobo."

"Yeah, it tasted great," Mustadio cut in. "Ah, I wonder what this wire does."

"That's horrible," Meliadoul rolled her eyes, "it could've been someone's pet, or treasured friend."

"The wire?"

She grinned despite herself. "The chocobo, idiot."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was a wild one," Ramza responded to the Divine Knight. "Well, that's Aries. So...Taurus?"

No one said anything for a long moment. Agrias sighed, pausing in her scouring to stare into the flames. "The Princess..." she whispered in a wavering tone that was unlike the stoic lady knight before she cleared her throat and started over with, "The Princess is a Taurus, steady in mind as well as step."

"That does sound like Ovelia," Cidolfas said fondly. "She has always been a serious girl, even as a child."

Agrias glanced at the Holy Swordsman, appreciation clear in her eyes. "Yes. She will be...a good queen."

There was an awkward silence before Ramza placed the potion--what he figured was a potion, at any rate--down, where it clinked loudly with another bottle. "Yes..." The issue of the newly crowned Queen Ovelia due to Delita Hyral's efforts was an uncomfortable one to Ramza. He believed his best friend's words, but... "Anyway, Gemini is next."

"Izlude is...was a Gemini," Meliadoul spoke immediately, focusing her attention to the reflection of the fire in her golden gauntlets in an effort to avoid any pitying glances.

Rafa glanced at her brother, who was oblivious to the world. "Malak is a Gemini as well," she said. Meliadoul's expression tightened at those words, as well as her grip on her armor.

Noticing some tension but unaware of where it was coming from, Mustadio glanced up from Worker 8's internals and broke out in a wide smile at Rafa, who noticed and sent an unsure smile back. "Did someone say something about Malak? Oh, your brother's sleeping," he noted with some surprise. A few people had small grins on their faces after hearing this; for all his inattentive behavior, Mustadio was unusually focused once he had his hands upon some bit of machinery.

"Yes. He was mentioning that he felt tired earlier today," Rafa replied.

Mustadio was taken aback. "I didn't realize he actually did anything!" Malak stirred in his sleep and Mustadio reflexively brought up an arm to block any incoming projectiles. The elder Galthana was one person who had never appreciated Mustadio's unique brand of humor. He lowered his arm after it was apparent that the mage was still asleep. "Wow. Anyway, shouldn't you be getting some sleep too, Rafa?"

The youngest member of the group shook her head. "No, I'm not tired at all."

"Oh. Well, you should get some sleep anyway. I mean, not like you need beauty rest or anything, because you're pretty cute, but--" A pine cone flew out of nowhere and smacked the machinist on the forehead, and Malak threw a glare after it as well as a few inaudible choice words before turning to his sister.

"Rafa, you need to go to sleep soon," he grumbled before flopping back onto his bedroll.

"Yes, brother," she murmured, looking at the now pained Mustadio with pity. Her brother really had been overdoing the 'protective elder brother' role since Riovanes.

"...So, are there any other Geminians?" Ramza asked, very used to this sort of behavior. Worker 8's optic visor, dark when Mustadio set to work on repairing the robot, suddenly flashed an unearthly glow as the mechanical giant stood, startling the nearby elite knights and Mustadio into defensive stances.

/Yes, Master/ the mechanical relic hummed in its unnerving, disaffected 'voice', /this general operations unit was first activated on Gemini first./

Mustadio, who was rubbing at the sore spot on the middle of his forehead with the heel of one hand, looked quizzically at Worker 8 from a safe distance away. "What does that mean? What's 'Gemini first'?"

Worker 8 was silent.

Annoyed, Mustadio turned to the fearful looking Ramza, who looked very close to bolting from the robot. "Ramza, ask it what it means."

"A-alright...Worker 8, what is 'Gemini first'?"

/That was the date that this general operations unit was first operated./

"...Oh. You can, uh... 'deactivate' now."

Despite not having his question answered, Mustadio still looked pleased as he clapped Ramza on the back. "Hey, glad to see you're getting the hang of the jargon already! I'll have you ready to help out in Goug by the end of the month!" he cheerfully announced, to which the youngest Beoulve son looked slightly embarrassed about.

"Are we continuing the game?" Meliadoul asked, having settled back onto her bedroll. "We're up to Cancer, if anyone has forgotten."

"I'm a Cancer," Agrias stated, lips twitching in disgust as she examined the Defender she carried with her. "This sword..."

Meliadoul glanced at the weapon in question. "Isn't that mine?"

"Yes. We stole it off of you when you thoughtlessly attacked us in Bervenia."

"'Thoughtlessly'?!" The Divine Knight looked furious. "I had a reason! And if you stole that from me, give it back!"

"You broke my last sword," Agrias retorted, "and you already have a better one."

Meliadoul's face went blank. Everyone, save for Orlandu who seemed to be meditating, glanced between the two elite lady knights. The Divine Knight was one of their most recent members of their group and her temperament was still unpredictable, not to talk of the fact that she had attacked a number of them during their first meeting. The woman sighed. "A good workman never blames his tools. In this way, appreciate the value of the sword, because it is merely an extension of who you are."

"Those are good words," the Holy Swordsman said suddenly, peering at the green-clad woman out of the corner of his eye. "Was that one of your father's lessons?"

"Yes, sir." Meliadoul hesitated a second, then said, "When he was still in his right mind, he was a good man who was very knowledgeable about the way of the knight. I've tried to keep them in mind so that his true legacy will not be lost."

"Good to hear," the eldest man of the group murmured, glancing at the distracted Ramza. "My son is a Cancer as well. There is another Cancer known to us, isn't that right?"

Ramza closed his eyes, trying not to notice the sudden turn of attention directed at him. "Brother...Zalbag was a Cancer. He...fit it well."

There was a long silence, awkward and stifling. Mustadio, who could be counted on to break through such moments, set down the rod of metal he was using to separate the tangled mass of wires inside Worker 8 and said, "Okay, so that's Aries, Taurus, Gemini and now Cancer, right? What's next?"

"Leo," Beowulf said, a note of surprise in his voice. He had been unaware that there was an Ivalician who did not know of the order of the zodiac, but decided not to ask. "I do remember that Vormav was one," he added, nodding respectfully to the Murond Shrine Knight commander's daughter. For her part, she looked faintly surprised.

"Did you know my father, Sir Beowulf?" she asked, now hopeful that someone would remember her father as he once was.

Beowulf shifted uncomfortably, catching the notice of his lover. He bent his head and whispered something in Reis' ear, and she nodded in understanding. "I did know your father, Miss Tingel," he finally answered, "but he was not an...easy person to get along with."

"Were you a subordinate of his?"

"Well...I was the head of the Lionel Holy Knights for a period of time."

"Ah..." Meliadoul's eyes widened as she absorbed this piece of information. "I see, you were _that_ Temple Knight...yes, Father didn't like you either."

Rafa, enraptured by the conversation, looked at the group's most senior knight through the flames. "Sir Orlandu, are relations between knights always so complicated?"

"Hm..." the wizened warrior glanced at the women sitting to either side of him before returning his attention to the young Heaven Knight, "you could say that, though I know little of Church politics."

"You wouldn't want to," Beowulf muttered darkly, dropping his tactful nature for a moment.

"...Alma is a Leo," Ramza murmured as he catalogued the remedies, "she's a spitfire," he chuckled hollowly as he gazed at the walls of Orbonne through the trees. In the morning they would storm those walls and settle everything once and for all, and if God was willing his sister would be returned to him.

If only.

"Virgo, Virgo...as much as I try, I can't think of one," Reis lamented suddenly, drawing attention away from the boy with the sadness marring his youthful face. There were equal looks of discouragement around the campfire; everyone had gotten into the game at least somewhat by now. At least, almost everyone was discouraged.

"Wiegraf was a Virgo."

Agrias glanced up from her sword to Meliadoul, who had spoken those words. "How did you know that?" she asked, struck by the odd timbre in the older woman's tone.

"What are you implying?" Meliadoul smiled into the fire. "He was a Shrine Knight for a period of time. I was amazed by his single-minded devotion...it was admirable."

"Uh-huh," Mustadio said into Worker 8's circuitry, disbelief evident in his voice. "You sure that was all?"

The smile dropped from Meliadoul's face. "It was enough."

A few people, Ramza and Agrias among them, had raised eyebrows at the Divine Knight's statement, though for altogether very different reasons. However, only one of them decided to speak their thoughts. "I would think that a Divine Knight, particularly one who had belonged to the Church, would have certain holy vows to follow," Agrias commented.

"Excuse me, please speak more plainly. I can't stand people who speak with subterfuge molding their words," Meliadoul retorted.

The Holy Knight glowered at the other woman. "As you wish. What kind of 'divine' knight breaks her holy vows to go cavorting about with a known terrorist--"

"He was my _friend_--"

"--A terrorist who took pride in his actions of wanton murder and inciting others to commit such crimes against the country!" Agrias exclaimed. "And such a man would be endorsed as a, a 'Zodiac Brave' while we are the hunted!"

"You people killed a cardinal! You say that he turned into a Lucavi, and I believe you, but how do you think it looks to the rest of the country? Wiegraf had ideas in line with our own, so he was accepted. Terrorist? Only an ignorant noble would use such a word when it's obvious he fought for freedom!" 

"Freedom? By murder and anarchy? No wonder the Church accepted him, if they think that wholesale slaughter is the way to ensure freedom! You're a true devil's advocate if you actually believe that those disgusting methods would've brought the peace you claim to desire!"

Before either woman could make a move towards the other, Ramza affixed the women with a dangerous glare. "God!" he gritted out through clenched teeth. "If you two cannot act according to the dictates of your ranks, then you can both start marching back to Dorter! I won't take people I can't rely on with me to save my sister!" He took in deep breaths, trying to calm himself after his outburst. He hated being angry, especially at the people he considered to be his friends and close allies, but Alma was still lost to him.

Agrias slowly nodded, her normally stern face now pinched in humiliation. "I am sorry. It was unprofessional of me."

"I'm sorry," Meliadoul murmured.

Ramza ran his hands through his bangs, exhaling slowly. "Thank you."

"What is all this noise..." From the opposite end of where Ramza sat rose Cloud Strife, the transported foreigner. Due to his continued disorientation, he tended to act slower and sleep more deeply than the citizens of this world.

"Sorry, Cloud," Ramza smiled tightly, "it won't happen again." No other words were needed for the strangely clothed man, as he fell right back onto his roll and dozed off again.

"Ah...anyway, we're on Libra," Beowulf coughed, trying to get everyone back into the game and away from any other unbecoming displays, "which I happen to be."

"Oh, oh, I'm one too," Mustadio spoke up, popping out the earplugs he had hastily shoved into his ears when he had caught wind of the argument between the two lady knights. Normally these earplugs were used in the heat of battle, as the noise of the gun he used was deafening otherwise. In this way, the screeching of two women could be equally hazardous to his hearing.

"Hm?" Meliadoul looked from Beowulf to Reis, then back again. "Aren't you a Pisces, Reis?" The dragoner nodded at this. The Divine Knight nodded sagely at this. "Oh, only normal compatibility? I'm surprised."

"What does that mean?" Reis cared little for astrology.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought you two would have signs that were more compatible than just 'normal." Meliadoul shrugged. "I suppose it really is just a myth."

Reis had other things on her mind as she turned her attention to Beowulf. "I thought you said that we had good compatibility," she said to him, her expression bland.

"What?" He looked genuinely confused. "When did I say that?"

"The third time we saw each other, back in Lionel."

"...I don't remember...I mean, that was almost seven years ago..."

"I see." This was said with a note of finality.

Noticing the situation she had started, Meliadoul attempted to lighten the atmosphere. "Well, that just goes to show that you can't believe anything you hear, especially with the zodiac. Though, Sir Beowulf, that's quite the line. I can certainly see how you're a Libra."

Beowulf now looked put-upon. Reis, however, was now the one nodding sagely. "Yes, that's very true. I've always taken his words with a pinch of salt, as it were."

"...What?" The former Temple Knight looked completely and utterly shocked. Everyone else just looked interested as they watched this new development. Even Orlandu was leaning forward, attentive when he had once been disinterested.

Realizing the full weight of her words, Reis leaned over and whispered something in Beowulf's ear. He merely raised an eyebrow in response. She leaned in closer, and he frowned. "Well, I can understand, but..." he trailed off when she continued. "No, no, I see..." he attempted, but she was hanging off of his shoulder and still trying to get her point across. "Oh...hm, I didn't think of it that way..." he nodded, wrapping one arm around her slender waist as he began to smile. "No, don't say that. I really appreciate it. You've definitely changed for the better." He laughed at something she said, holding her close. "I know, love. Thank you." He kissed her on the cheek as she pulled away only enough to rest her head on his shoulder, and he tenderly tucked a lock of hair that had fallen over her face behind her exposed ear. That was when he happened to glance over and notice their audience. "Hello," he said, faintly.

Mustadio raised one hand. "Hey."

"Ahem," Agrias coughed into one gloved hand, drawing attention away from the now-embarrassed couple. "Are we still playing this game? While it lacks some of the entertainment one can apparently receive from watching other people's moments of intimacy, I would prefer continuing it."

"Um, sorry," Rafa apologized, even though she had spent the last few minutes looking down at her lap to give the couple beside her some privacy. The Holy Knight merely frowned at this before returning her attention to her sword.

"Scorpio, then?" Orlandu mused. "That would be me."

"You?" Ramza asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

"No...I just...well, you know, Dycedarg was a Scorpio."

"Ah," the elder man nodded wisely, a smile adorning his worn face, "but we are nothing alike, you are thinking. Am I correct?"

Mustadio closed the panel that led to Worker 8's internal system, rubbing at his eyes. "That's strange. There's meanings in the zodiac? 'Cause, Father's a Scorpio and he's just...not like either Ramza's brother or you."

"If I could ask," Beowulf started, curiosity gnawing away at any propriety he had, "Mustadio, how is it that you know your and your father's signs, but nothing about the meanings behind them or even the order of the cycle?"

"Well, it doesn't get things fixed or dig out ore from the drifts, so it's not important to me," the mechanic shrugged. "Except for the cases of Worker 8 and the Celestial Globe, anyway. I mean, it's just one of those things that you know about just because, but you don't care too much about, you see?"

"Oh, that's why you and your father didn't recognize the Aquarius and Cancer symbols," Ramza thought out loud. Mustadio nodded.

"Yeah, all that zodiac stuff only has applications in battle these days, but back when the airships flew I'd imagine that it was extremely important."

"Oh, that's interesting."

"So, there are no other Scorpios?" Orlandu inquired during the ensuing lapse in conversation after Ramza's comment. "Then, it would be Sagittarius now, correct?"

The former Hokuten squire closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands. "Delita."

Agrias stiffened at the name, the shell of polite manners and tightly reined emotions that encased the woman's true self slowly cracking at the seam. "Is that so," she stated. Likewise, the famed Thundergod Cid, he of the legendary poise, seemed to be a tad disturbed by the name of the boy who was now the new Nanten commander.

"You know, now that I think about it," Mustadio looked at Meliadoul, who was placing all her armor next to her bedroll after their thorough cleaning, "Melly, your brother said something about Delita at Orbonne. Did you know him?"

"My name is Meliadoul," the Divine Knight muttered. "Delita...yes, that was the boy whom my father used to infiltrate Zeltennia. Izlude talked to him a few times. My brother could make friends with a rock." She smiled fondly, though with the flickering flames the shadows revealed a subtle shade of sadness along her face.

Orlandu glanced at the young woman. "You knew?" he asked, a dark tone in his voice.

"I hadn't realized how little I had known until I joined this group," she said, undaunted. With a father that had grown increasingly more dangerous within the last few years, she was not intimidated by the threat a legendary warrior carried. "But at the time, everything seemed right."

"I can understand that," Rafa said, her voice low with the pain of the memories she only revealed through her dark eyes.

Mustadio glanced at her, his expression sympathetic. "Yeah, but you're not a religious fanatic. You just did what you had to do to survive, I bet." He turned to a glowering Meliadoul. "Uh, no offense."

She sighed, shaking her head. "No, I...they would not be undeserved words."

"The next would be Capricorn," Beowulf suddenly said in a hushed tone, and those who glanced at him witnessed as he unhooked his cape and wrapped it around a now dozing Reis. Lifting her with some effort, he moved her so that he could wrap his arms around her, her head resting against his chest.

Meliadoul raised her hand. "That's me."

Agrias suddenly smirked, a facial expression heretofore never seen on the woman's face. "Not everything's a myth, then."

The other woman, only older by six months, suddenly chuckled. "Nope."

Mustadio glanced between the two women, frowning slightly in his confusion. "Huh. You knights are all weird."

"I'm glad I'm not a knight," Ramza suddenly remarked, smiling innocently as four sets of glares were aimed at him. Rafa smiled at him over her brother's sleeping body.

"And look what you've shown us, Ramza. One doesn't need to be a knight to commit their life to helping others." She looked down at her brother, a contemplative smile lingering on her face. "Thank you."

"You're too kind, Rafa," he smiled, a slight blush across his cheeks accentuated by the campfire before he looked down and started to bundle all the supplies into their proper groupings before placing them into the item knapsack.

"Awww," Mustadio teased, "that's so cute." Ramza kept his head down, thankful that his heavy bangs hid most of his face. Meanwhile, Rafa giggled as she stretched out onto her bedroll, staring up at the stars. "So, Beo, what's next?" the mechanic continued.

His eyes flickering in amusement at the diminutive of his name, Beowulf thought for a moment. "Aquarius," he said just a little too loudly, causing the woman wrapped up in his cape to stir in his arms. "Sorry," he whispered, and Reis mumbled something before relaxing again.

"I don't know any Aquarians," Agrias murmured as she finally sheathed her sword. "Who has first watch?"

"I'm setting Worker 8 to watch for the whole night, since he doesn't need sleep," Ramza yawned as he placed the filled knapsack next to his roll. "I do know an Aquarian...Delita's sister, Teta. She was...I always thought of her as a sister."

"It's amazing that one girl could have the ability to change the lives of an entire country," the former Nanten commander said. "The value of one person may not be just in their actions, but in the way they affect the lives of those around them."

"In that way, you could say that Miss Hyral had even more value than the Queen herself." Meliadoul offered.

Agrias looked over at the older woman, annoyance flitting across her features. "Which one? Either way, what you've said could constitute a crime."

"It's also a crime for me to offer aid to a heretic, Lady Oaks, especially as a member of the Murond Shrine Knights. We all have laws that we've broken to get this far," Meliadoul said, for once not baiting the other woman. "As for your question, both queens. Delita's accusation toppled down Queen Ruvelia, as Sir Orlandu had witnessed. And now, this Queen Ovelia...well, it's simply incredible."

Ramza, distinctly uncomfortable with the discussion at hand, glanced at Mustadio, who was putting away his tools and readying his bedroll next to Ramza's. "Mustadio, Cloud's said that he was an Aquarius, didn't he?"

Mustadio rolled his eyes at the question. "That guy says some pretty wild things, like about what air is and sphere rows and stuff like that. I don't care what sign he is," he flopped down onto the roll and closed his eyes. "G'night."

"Good night." Ramza turned to the others, who were in the process of lying upon their own makeshift beds. "We still have Pisces."

"That's me," Rafa murmured, eyes half-closed.

"Me too," Reis yawned, trying to pull herself out of the cape she'd been lovingly wrapped in. "Beowulf, you need this more than me," she protested when he smiled and held the length of cloth closed over her exposed collarbone.

"But you look better in it," he commented, swooping in and kissing her on the temple before lying down on their shared roll. "Good night, everyone," he called as an exasperated Reis settled down beside him, pulling his cape off and laying it over the both of them.

Ramza smiled as he watched the scenes happening before him. "Worker 8," he said, and a nascent fear arose as the humanoid relic turned to him, staring lifelessly at him with glowing lights for eyes, "please watch for any suspicious activity in the woods around us, alright?"

/Yes, Master/ it intoned, and Ramza relaxed somewhat. He laid down onto his bedroll and stared up at the twinkling stars shining above the group. The thought of the zodiac stones, secreted away within his armor, came to him and he thought to try and look for Scorpio in the sky. When he thought he had found something vaguely scorpionic, he closed his eyes and dozed off, entering the realm of a dreamless sleep. It was that way with all the members of the group who traveled with him.

These heavenly bodies, now at rest.

-End of _Zodiac Signal_-


End file.
